Chances Are
by Jael K
Summary: What if Leonard had been stuck in the 1950s with Sara, Ray, and Kendra in season 1? And how the hell did they survive, anyway? (CaptainCanary, of course.)
1. The Moment You Come Into View

I was working on "Time & Tide" and got sidetracked by the whole "what if Leonard had been stop in the '50s in season 1 too?" question.

So I wrote it.

This is my Valentine to the CC/Legends fandom. Enjoy! (Five chapters planned.) Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

* * *

Later, she'll ask Len why he decided to come meet them, to leave the Waverider and cross the field toward them, his expression closed off in the way it'd been since they'd left Mick, but just a little bit of…something…glimmering in his eyes as he looks at her.

He'll shrug, when she asks, eyes holding hers again for a moment, then slipping away.

"Not sure," he'll say, studying the wall of the motel room intently. "Needed some fresh air, I guess."

She'll ask again, sometime later. That time, the answer will be different.

But that's still in the future.

At any rate, for whatever reason, he's by her side when they hear the ship's engines fire, when they all watch incredulously as it starts to rise. As she starts to run, he keeps pace, and when she stops after only a few steps, he's there too.

Ray gapes at the sky as the Waverider vanishes. Kendra's eyes are wide. Sara looks at Len and sees a fleeting flash of surprise there before his walls slam back up.

"Where did they go?" Ray asks out loud, his tone baffled.

"Better question: Why did they leave us?" Sara retorts as they stare at the sky.

"Gotta feeling they didn't want to." They all look at Snart, who's frowning at nothing in particular. After a second, he shakes his head roughly and focuses on them.

"Whatever happened, we need to get out of here," he growls, turning and casting around. For what, Sara's not sure.

Ray shakes his head in response. "We just need to stay calm. They'll be back."

"They're not coming back." Sara's responded before she even realizes she's going to say the words. She shrugs as Ray and Kendra look at her, trying to fight down an unpleasant surge of panic and hurt. "Snart's right. Let's go."

Ray's chin goes up. "Look, as a former Eagle Scout with over 100 merit badges... no big deal... the first rule of getting lost is to stay in the same place," he insists. "That way, you can be found."

Sara starts to respond, but Len's hiss interrupts her.

"Survivor, Raymond, remember?" he says in a low tone, staring at the other man a moment before flicking his eyes back to Sara. "Sara?"

There's both a note of apology for the interruption and a request for backup in the one-word question, and Sara spares just a second to wonder how they read each other so well before she complies with the latter.

"As a former member of the League of Assassins," she tells Ray, just a touch acerbically, "the first rule when you've been attacked is to keep moving."

"I sort of think League wisdom trumps the Eagle Scouts here," Kendra cuts in, with a glance of apology at Ray. "Plus, Savage is still out there."

Ray keeps protesting, but Leonard's already moving, heading for a nearby lot, and Sara catches up to him, leaving Kendra to deal with the sputtering scientist.

"Car?" she asks in a low tone.

"Mmhmm." He glances at her. "Whatever happened, I don't think it's a good idea to stay where Savage is. Especially not with Kendra with us. We've seen what he'll do to get his hands on her. And he seems to be able to sense her."

"True." Sara bites her lip, thinking. "Just get outta Harmony Falls, then figure out where else?"

"Yeah. Got some thoughts on that." He shrugs as she glances at him. "You think I wouldn't get the lay of the land before we got here?"

 _I think you've been the next best thing to a ghost since…whatever happened with Mick_. But she doesn't say it. And she's still trying to keep her mind on the problem at hand so she doesn't think too hard about why the Waverider left, when it'll be back, if it'll ever be back…

"Right," is all she says as they zero in on a lonely red Dodge at the edge of the lot. "I got this."

Len looks duly impressed at her ability to hotwire a car, and Sara tries not to look at the delinquent watching her avidly as she makes a quip about dating delinquents to Kendra. She waves him into the driver's seat –he's the one who's studied the maps, after all, and it _is_ 1958—and claims shotgun, both of them ignoring Ray's protests.

Although Sara knows that Harmony Falls is no worse than many other areas at this time—and probably better than some—she feels her shoulders relax just a tiny bit when they cross the city limits. Gazing out the window, she silently wishes Lindsay luck, even as a tiny part of her is glad to have the temptation posed by the other woman removed.

Ray and Kendra argue quietly in the back seat. Leonard drives on, in silence.

* * *

He stops only four times that day: once while they're cutting through another nearby city, only to vanish into a general store with only a terse command to "wait." Sara watches as he emerges a few moments later, holding a small bag, just in perfect time to bump into a self-important-looking man in a suit who's walking by. They both carry on with apologies, but Sara's smirking as he slides into the driver's seat again, tossing both the bag and a black leather wallet into her lap.

"You didn't." Ray sounds horrified.

"Multitasking, Raymond." Leonard starts the car again, pulling away from the curb smoothly. "We need to ditch this car, get one that's legit, and we need money. He was heading for the bank down the street. It was a decent bet."

Sara checks the wallet and nods in satisfaction at the cash in it. Between the four of them, they actually have a decent sum on them—between the money of the time Rip makes them carry "just in case" and a little money Len had apparently "acquired" in Harmony Falls, to the surprise of no one. (Just to keep his hand in, he says.) But it's going to go fast, and he's also right about the car.

"But…but…what if he needed that money? To pay for his mortgage or something? What if he has kids? What…"

"Him or us, Raymond." Len's voice is terse. "Got a better idea?"

Ray doesn't, although Sara can see the hangdog expression in his eyes via the rearview mirror. She glances at Leonard and sees the lines of tension around his own eyes, the straight line of his mouth. He's not precisely happy with this either, she thinks, but he's right. What else are they going to do?

The panic starts to rise again and she pushes it down, ruthlessly.

Next, they stop again at a small-town car dealership that's pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and Leonard promptly vanishes into the office with the burly man who approaches the vehicle. Sara recognizes his attempt to keep the rest of them out of the man's view and nods to herself. After a moment's thought, she turns in her seat to hold a low conversation with Kendra as Ray sulks just a bit in his seat.

She can't blame him, in some ways. The lack of control of this whole situation is infuriating, frustrating. But the Boy Scout worldview isn't going to help them here. Well, maybe it would help Ray…just not the rest of them.

By the time Len and the salesman emerge, Sara reads their gestures (she's pretty sure Len's telegraphing his for their benefit) and judges that he's traded their Dodge for an even more nondescript sedan parked nearby. Not a fair trade, and she's pretty sure he's given the man a bit more cash for his silence, but since the salesman comes out of it ahead, it should be as safe as it can be.

Still. After a moment, Sara gets out of the car and saunters toward the salesman, drawing his eyes to her as Kendra drags Ray from the old car and into the new one. She catches a flicker of approval in Leonard's eyes and a smirk on his face as he registers her distraction. He takes her arm in an almost proprietary fashion, giving the salesman something else to focus on and a story to extrapolate from the whole situation.

And people tend to stick to the stories they make up for themselves. The crook and the assassin know that.

As they pull away in the new car, Sara sees the salesman pulling the old license plates off the Dodge. Good.

In the next larger town, they stop a third time, with Len telling/asking Ray to run into a drug store to grab sandwiches for them all.

"We can't get something more substantial?" the other man asks a bit plaintively. "There's a diner over there…"

But Len cuts in again as the scientist's voice trails off.

"You do realize, Raymond, that, in this era, there are places that might not…look kindly…on the four of us eating a meal together on the premises." His tone is as dry as dust. "And since we don't know what's safe and what isn't—and Savage, if he tries to track us, will be looking for a unique group such as ourselves—it's better if we stay out of the public eye."

Ray blinks, but Kendra's nodding, a certain wry twist to her mouth.

"I remember," she says simply. "Ray, Harmony Falls really wasn't that bad, in many ways. There were looks, and comments, but…" She shakes her head. "And we're trying to stay more under the radar, now, just in case Savage tracks us. Snart's right."

Ray gets the sandwiches. Len doesn't even rub it in.

When they stop again, it's late, well past sunset. Even Sara, used to going without sleep, is exhausted, and she's pretty sure Ray and Kendra have pretty much nodded off in the back seat. She glances at Len again as he parks the car in a motel parking lot, noting the tell-tales of weariness in his expression

"I know we need to conserve cash, but get two rooms if you can, Raymond," he says, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. "We need to sleep and that ain't gonna work well if all four of us are crammed in one room."

Ray, still blinking drowsiness out of his eyes, opens his mouth, then closes it, nodding. He heads for the lit-up office without another word. After a moment, Kendra murmurs that she's going to stretch her legs and climbs out of the car herself.

Sara draws in a deep breath, holds it a few seconds, then lets it out, trying to send some tension with it. She'd been a little worried Len meant to drive all night, and she could have understood why.

The silence stretches, there in the car, and Sara tries rather desperately not to think about their situation. About her increasing conviction that the ship isn't coming back, about what sort of place she can find for herself in 1958, about…

"How you holdin' up?"

Sara blinks as the quiet words tear into the frantic circle of her thoughts…which is, she realizes, precisely why he'd spoken. She glances over at Leonard again and sees the understanding there before he conceals it behind his usual walls.

"OK," she says finally. "Well…that's probably an overstatement. I'm…trying not to think too hard about it."

And there's the understanding again.

"Same," he admits, and she knows Leonard well enough at this point to realize how rare that sort of admission is. She's even more surprised when he continues. "Right now, it's still survival mode. Food, transportation, sleep…someplace safe for _all_ of us to go to ground…" Sara watches his fingers flex on the steering wheel. "Eh. One thing at a time."

Sara nods, studying his face in the shadows. "Don't take this the wrong way," she says suddenly, "but I'm glad you're here."

His eyes, gray in the darkness, dart to hers, but after a second, the honest surprise in them is buried in amusement, and a slight edge of cynicism.

"Raymond may be a genius," he drawls, "but he's not that practical. And far too honest. My skill set…and yours, I'm sure…work better with the whole subterfuge thing."

That's not quite what she'd meant…or at least, not all she'd meant, but Sara lets it go. She peers around Leonard, watching Ray step out of the motel office and head back toward them. He's smiling.

"Looks like he has two keys," she points out, then glances back at Len, making a decision.

"Wanna let the lovebirds have a room?" she asks lightly. "They've gotten used to playing house, and I don't think I want to deal with it."

Len leans his head back against the seat, eyeing her, the corner of his mouth ticking up.

"Thank god," he mutters after a few beats. "I was worried you might make me bunk with the Boy Scout."

Sara snorts at him, perfectly willing to take refuge in snark for the moment. "I really don't want you taking the car and heading for the hills in the middle of the night because you've had enough of the Ray Palmer approach to life," she tells him. "I'm not sure what I'd do if you left me alone with the lovebirds. Lose my mind, probably."

Again, they're joking but not joking. And both of them know it.

Len stares at her in the shadows. "I'd ask you to go with me," he says suddenly, tone split between the sardonic sort of humor they've both been using and utter sincerity. "If I did."

Sara swallows. "Promise?" she asks, again, lightly.

He doesn't get a chance to respond, though, because Ray's tapping on the car window, looking pleased with himself. Leonard sighs and gives Sara a speaking glance before popping the door and getting out. Smiling a little, Sara follows suit.

Kendra, who's been walking through the lot and looking out at the lights of the nearby city, walks back over too, smiling at Ray, who beams at her.

"I got two rooms!" he says, holding up the keys. "But…"

Leonard's snatched one from his hand before he even finishes speaking, noting the number on the fob and turning for the motel. "Excellent," he drawls. "Go get some sleep. We have to keep moving tomorrow and I'm not waiting around because you and Bird Girl got frisky and aren't rested."

Ray sputters behind him, protesting, but Sara just winks at the grinning Kendra and follows Len as he strolls down the row of rooms. She glances over her shoulder just in time to see Ray and Kendra vanishing into another one of them, but nearly bumps into Len, who's opened No. 9 and stopped in his tracks in the doorway. Shaking her head, she peers around him.

The room seems clean enough, if spartan.

And there's just one king bed in it.

Sara makes a small, amused noise at the sight and Len's reaction, then worms her way around him, walking in to the room to drop with a sigh on the edge of the bed and kick off her heels. Weariness overtakes her and she closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself relax a little as she ponders what to say.

After a moment, she decides to go with pure matter-of-factness.

"Can you keep your hands to yourself?" she asks Len, opening her eyes to see the no-shit _look_ he levels at her and then smiling at it. "Then we're fine. We're both adults."

He looks like he's not quite convinced, but he also looks like he's very nearly ready to pass out. After a moment, he shrugs, dropping down onto the bed himself, then stretching out with a sigh and throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Want the bathroom first?" he asks, voice muffled.

Sara considers. "Yeah. Thanks." She glances around, then grabs the small bag from their earlier stop, the store Len had used as a blind of sorts from which to pick a target. Practical as always, he'd also purchased toothbrushes, toothpaste, combs, and some soap. She'd passed Ray and Kendra theirs earlier. "And thanks for this, too."

"No problem." His arm is still over his face. "Being trapped in a car with Raymond is bad enough. I don't need morning breath times four, too."

But however snarky the words are, the gesture was a true one…and it's appreciated. Sara turns for the bathroom with a smile on her face, allowing him his subterfuge.

By the time she emerges, breathing a sigh of relief at the feeling of having been able to scrub up, he's waiting for the bathroom himself, slipping inside without a word of acknowledgement.

Sara shrugs, then efficiently strips out of her skirt and blouse, peeling the stockings and accompanying garters off with another sigh of relief and pondering the best way to sleep comfortably and not potentially freak out the notoriously body-shy Snart. Not that it's her body he seems to be shy of—he hasn't precisely hidden his admiration of it, and in another time and place she'd consider laying across the bed in her underwear and the stockings just to see his reaction. But they're both on edge, and he's become too good a friend to mess with in such a gratuitous way, especially now that they're relying on each other in a way they've never had to rely on each other before.

Fifties women's undergarments are pretty voluminous, and Gideon tends to scold them about maintaining authenticity, just in case one of them is injured and, well, stuck in another time. So Sara's wearing the rather—extensive-underwear the AI had recommended, as well as a full slip that she's actually quite fond of. She'd gone against authenticity and kept her sports bra, which is in itself reasonably modest, and decides it's comfortable enough to stay.

Yawning, she crawls under the bedspread, glad the room is relatively warm, and waits for Len. She could use the conversation, even if it's just a few minutes of their habitual snark and innuendo.

He emerges after few more minutes, pausing only a moment as he sees her curled up under the covers. She can see him drag in a breath before he stoops to remove his shoes, after which he crosses the room to make sure the door is locked and flick off the light.

Then he drops onto the far side of the bed—still wearing jeans and black sweater and more, pretty much every layer he has except his coat.

Sara stares at him a moment, eyes growing accustomed to the darkness that's barely illuminated by the faint light coming in from the parking lot.

"Don't be an idiot," she says finally. "You can't sleep in that."

The silence from his side of the bed is mutinous.

"I'm serious, Snart." Sara sighs. "Look. At least take off some of those layers. T-shirt and boxers?" Even as she speaks, she realizes there's no damned way he wears boxers. Not underneath those skinny jeans. (And OK, so maybe she's guilty of watching _his_ ass, too.)

After a pause, she continues. "Keep the lights off, I'm not going to be a jerk about it. Take a sheet and wrap up in it if you want. OK? You spent the whole damned day driving. Get comfortable."

She keeps her tone matter of fact, and after a moment, she hears a sigh from the far side of the bed. Len rises and pads back into the bathroom. After a few minutes, he returns, and in the faint light she can see the skin he keeps so diligently covered, forearms and shins and knees, although he's still somewhat covered by a T-shirt and, apparently, briefs.

He pauses a moment, then slips under the covers himself, murmuring a quiet "night" and rolling over to face away from her.

He trusts her enough to do that. Doesn't matter than the lights are off. Doesn't matter that they're both covered. He trusts her.

Sara sighs again, and then closes her eyes, letting her exhaustion carry her off to sleep.

Unfortunately, she dreams.

* * *

Despite his unease with his current state of undress—and to be frank, his unease in a completely different way with the state of undress he's pretty sure Sara's in—Len falls asleep nearly immediately. He's just too damned tired, and he's been in too much of a hyperaware state ever since he realized the Waverider was lifting off without them.

Longer than that, probably. But he's not going to think about that.

He's not sure how long he sleeps before he finds himself awake again, groggily staring at the ceiling while his brain decides to present him with everything he should be thinking about and everything he doesn't want to think about.

He doesn't want to think about how he's lost his cold gun, left behind on the Waverider when he'd decided to walk out to meet Sara…the others.

He doesn't want to think about how now he has no way to go back for Mick. Something he swore to himself he'd find a way to do. (Mick will cool down. He always does. He just needs time. Right?)

He doesn't want to think about never seeing Lisa again.

He doesn't want to think about why he feels so stupidly responsible for Raymond and Kendra and…well, not precisely Sara, who's a survivor every bit as much as he is, but he won't, can't turn his back on her. And he doesn't want to think about why he feels that way, either, he thinks uneasily.

He even doesn't want to think about the others on the ship, the kid and the professor and even the Brit, doesn't want to wonder if they've alive or dead.

About how they might never be back.

His thoughts are chasing themselves in circles so much that it takes a minute or two, maybe longer, for him to realize what else he's hearing, there in the quiet of the room, outside the turmoil in his own head.

Sara is crying. Nearly silently, trying desperately to conceal it, but she's weeping, breath ragged and desperate.

Why? Because she's been trying not to think about all these things too? Because she's let herself acknowledge she might never see her sister, her parents, again? Because this time hates nearly everything about who she is and what she's made of herself?

And then, lying there in the dark, Leonard Snart realizes with a good deal of bemusement that he can let Sara Lance cry herself out alone about as much as he could have abandoned her back in Harmony Falls. Or about as much as he could have taken a side that didn't include her, back on the ship, when Mick blew everything to pieces.

Which is to say, he can't.

Trying not to think about it too hard, he rolls over, facing her across the expanse of the bed, and tentatively reaches out a hand, clearing his throat in warning before he lets his fingertips brush against her shoulder.

"Sara?" he whispers. "Sara."

Sara lets out a strangled breath, tensing, then relaxes, deliberately. He listens to her breathe for another moment, then she sighs.

"M'OK," she whispers. "Sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't."

It shouldn't take much to realize he's having trouble sleeping, too, and she does, he's pretty sure, turning to look at him, expression unreadable in the dim light.

He hesitates, then reaches out to touch her shoulder again, feeling like he's dreaming, and in a dream, this is OK, right? It's not a big deal to drag his fingertips down her arm, to tentatively, cautiously, wrap his hand around hers, to tug her gently toward him.

"C'mere," he whispers. "I mean…if you want to."

His grip is barely worthy of the name, really, and it would be the easiest thing in the world for her to break it, to stay where she is, if his comfort, his presence, aren't something she wants or welcomes. He still can't quite believe he's doing this, actually, and he's already regretting being so…so damned soft… and…

And with a sigh like she's laying down a burden, Sara moves into his arms with a stifled sob, her own arms going around his shoulders, hands gripping the soft fabric of his T-shirt like she's never going to let him go. She buries her face in his collarbone and he can feel the heat of her tears on his skin even as his arms go around her, one hand buried in her hair, the other arm wrapped around her waist.

It's too much contact. And yet…it's not. It's oddly OK, here in the dark, where they can both almost pretend they're dreaming, that this whole damn thing is just a nightmare and they can chase each other's demons away just by their presence, by being there for each other in the night.

But it's not a dream. They're going to have to get up in the morning, and keep surviving, keep moving. Keep adapting to a time neither one of them ever really wanted any part of. Keeping hoping that somehow, the ship will come back for them.

Neither of them wants to think about it.

But at least, Len thinks, gently, combing his fingers through Sara's hair as her breathing evens out and he finally starts to drift off himself, at least they're not alone.


	2. My Composure Sort of Slips

The morning, Sara thinks later, should have been far more awkward than it is.

They wake pretty much wrapped around each other, her head still tucked into his collarbone, their arms around each other, legs intertwined, his bare, hers covered with the silk of her slip, with all the very personal contact that implies. But when Sara blinks the sleep out of her eyes and peers up at him, Len's actually awake already, looking down at her, and there's actually a faint half-smile on his face—a real one, and not the usual smirk.

It's so unexpected that she blinks again, wondering if she's dreaming—it's not like he's never factored in dreams of hers, after all, although that's a fairly recent development, and their activities in those dreams been far more...interesting.

Then the smile is gone, but the steady, silent regard remains.

It does cross her mind to do something with all this personal contact—and she's pretty sure it crosses his mind too, simply judging by the shadow of speculation she sees in his eyes. But the moment passes, at least in part because of the possibility of Ray banging on their door to prove that he can, too, get up early. And after a moment or two, Len pulls away with a low murmur that Sara can't quite make out, rising and heading toward the bathroom.

They seem to have mutually decided not to talk about it. She can live with that.

For now.

But then she's alone, and there's no distraction from that realization that, yeah, they're still here, still in 1958, with no idea what happened to the Waverider, or if the others are OK, if they'll be back, how…

Sara swallows, hard, then pushes back the covers. She needs to move, or she'll keep thinking.

She's moving through martial arts forms when Len finally emerges from the bathroom, showered and dressed again in his black jeans and sweater, which fortunately are nondescript enough not to stand out as being out of time. From the corner of her eye, Sara sees him pause abruptly, his eyes drifting over her slip-clad body appreciatively before he clears his throat and moves toward the small desk in the room, picking up a pen from its surface.

Sara grins and, grabbing her own clothing, heads for the bathroom.

By the time she emerges, decently clad again and pinning up her damp hair, he's frowning at a list written on the pad of paper that'd been there. She perches on the edge of the bed, watching, enjoying the chance to study him while his attention is elsewhere.

"You and Ray are going to need to stop at a barbershop or get some shaving supplies, or you're going to start looking pretty scruffy soon," she says, finally. "Not that the scruff doesn't have its appeal, but it's not common right now. And as you've said, we want to stand out less, not more."

She gets a sigh of acknowledgement, and he picks up the chair and turns it around, sitting down to watch her in return, slouching, right ankle hooked over his left knee, as incapable of sitting in a normal fashion as he ever was on the ship.

Typical Snart. Sara represses a smile.

"Yeah," he agrees, a hint of reluctance in his tone. "We need some changes of clothing, too, and I need something more suited to the era." A glance away, a glance back. "I hate to ask, but you think you and Kendra can handle that? For all four of us?"

Sara snorts. "What, send the women to deal with clothing-type things? How stereotypically '50s of you." But she waves down his protest. "Kidding. Of course. And don't worry, I'll stick with black for you." She smiles a little at his snort. "And what will you and Ray be doing?"

"We're a few hours now from Opal City. I want to stop there and you two can hit up the department stores while Raymond and I get shaves." He gives her a hooded look. "Since we're not staying there, I think maybe I can even let him try to chat some people up in typical Raymond fashion, see what the tenor of the area is. I have…a destination in mind, but fallbacks are always good. And…and _I_ need to find someplace to keep picking up some more money."

Sara nods in understanding. "One of these days, I want you to teach me that."

Len leans back in his chair. "Picking pockets?" he drawls. "Probably child's play for a member of the League of Assassins."

"Former member." She tilts her head and matches his posture. "And, yeah, I can knife someone between the ribs in a crowd and be out of sight before they even realize they've been touched, but it's not quite the same."

"Truth." He regards her. "And what do I get in return for the benefit of my…experience and finesse?"

The suggestive banter and the low purr of his voice are comfortably familiar, but given how they'd woken up this morning, the innuendo seems a lot more…immediate than before. Sara considers, briefly, how she wants to play this, then decides impishly to give as good as she gets. If nothing else, it's a wonderful and much-needed distraction.

"Ooh, I don't know," she drawls in response, smirking at him, smoothly slipping a knife out of her sleeve and turning it…one might almost say, fondling it…between her fingers. "I _do_ have talents of my own."

Leonard's smirk grows. "Of that, I have no doubt. You're proposing an…exchange of talents?"

"Hmmm." Sara eyes him, then flips the knife around, balancing it on one fingertip, pleased she still has the callouses that allow her to do that. "I don't know. You'd have to convince me you actually have some…skill…to offer."

He looks almost insulted. "You're doubting _my_ skills?"

She thinks that maybe they've both forgotten what's innuendo and what isn't. "I don't know, you haven't really bothered to demonstrate any of them for me yet."

Even as she says it, she wonders if she's stepped over the line, the one they hadn't even been aware of in the beginning, when they were just assassin and crook and hadn't yet saved each other's lives, nearby frozen to death together, played cards to get through the long days and now held each other to get through a long night.

But they have, now. They have, and she's not even sure where the line is anymore, or if she still wants it to exist. What happened with Lindsay…it'd woken something she'd thought was dead, gone in the pit, a stirring, a...spark.

She sees Len's eyes flicker, just a tiny bit. But he responds smoothly enough. "Are you saying you want me to arrange a demonstration?" He tilts his head toward her, but glances away, a certain tell, Sara knows, that he's entirely aware of the deeper undercurrents here, beyond mere innuendo. "Because I don't go where I'm not…wanted…"

"And here I thought you made a career out of it." She keeps her tone light. A stepping stone out of those deeper currents, if he wants it.

She doesn't find out if he takes it, though. Because at that moment, someone decides to pound on the door.

Their eyes meet in complete agreement and resignation and then Len rises, crossing to the door and throwing it open just in time for Ray's fist to very nearly collide with his nose. Sara, watching, snickers at the horrified expression on Ray's face and the very resigned one on Len's, and nods to Kendra as she peers around both of them.

Time to move on.

* * *

There's a candy vending machine in one of the hotel corridors, and coffee and take-out cups in the office. Raymond absconds with four of them, chattering up a storm and evading the manager's curious eyes, and they pool enough change to get four Hershey bars before heading back out onto the road.

It's not a good breakfast, Leonard thinks morosely as he sips his black—ugh—coffee, but it's something. He glances to the side, sighing silently when he sees the Boy Scout sitting there and not Sara, who'd ceded shotgun for the morning. He flicks his eyes up, just for a second, and sees her watching him in the rearview mirror, gaze unreadable.

There's trace of chocolate in the corner of her mouth and, as he watches, sitting there at a stoplight, she reaches up to rub it off with a thumb. Len, though, startled by his sudden image of kissing it off, jerks his gaze back down to the road.

Of all his problems right now, this is not the one he needs to obsess with. If it's even a problem. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, frowning, then drives on as the light turns green.

It's been a long, long time since he's accepted touch, platonic or otherwise, as a comfort. But that's what it'd been, mutually, last night. Sara had been his touchstone in the night, a reminder that he wasn't stuck here alone, and he's pretty sure he'd been hers. It's unbelievable, but there it is. It would have been easy, very easy and very complicated, all at the same time, to let that physical comfort move on to something more intimate.

And they both know it.

"So, where are we going?" Raymond's voice is an awkward mix of tentative and assertive, and he reddens at the level look Leonard gives him. Still, he holds his ground, and Len acknowledges that the man has a right to know. So far, he's been dragging them along in his wake, and everyone's been shell shocked enough to let him, for the most part. But that won't last.

"For the moment," he allows, keeping his eyes on the road, "we're heading toward Opal City. Here's the plan."

He details what he's already told Sara, glossing over the fact that he also plans to find a business district and relieve a few stuffed shirts of their wallets. While he has no intention of admitting it to Raymond, no one in this car is a fool. They can figure it out.

There are murmurs of agreement at the idea of getting some supplies, especially clothing, and Raymond rubs at his jawline as if surprised to find a few days growth of stubble there. After the breakfast of candy and caffeine, an actual meal, if they can find a relatively…open-minded…establishment, sounds pretty good too.

"And…longer term?" Kendra asks tentatively, glancing at Raymond. "I mean, we can't just keep driving from city to city, and living on whatever you…find. When the ship comes back…"

But her voice trails off, and Len would be stunned if everyone in the car isn't thinking the same word.

 _If_.

"When we stop tonight, we need a head-to-head. All four of us." He looks up again and meets Kendra's eyes in the mirror. "Trust me that far? I know it goes against the grain, but…"

"You haven't led us wrong yet." Sara's tone dares anyone to disagree with her, and he's surprised by how it warms him. "You were right that we had to get away from Harmony Falls. Kendra's also right we need to…figure out something more long term, but you said you have a plan. I want to hear it."

Leonard's surprised when Kendra actually reaches out and touches his shoulder, a brief tap that somehow manages to suggest support. He can hear the smile in her voice as she speaks; whether it's at Sara's immediate defense of him or something else, he's not sure.

"I'm OK with that," she says. "Ray?"

"Me too." The inventor nods, but glances around at all of them, looking stubborn. "But if you're the survivor, well, I'm the scientist. And I have thoughts about the ship. About signaling it. I'm not giving up. None of us should."

"Good."

Leonard's answer apparently startles him. Raymond blinks, then glances around again, nodding as no one argues. "Good? OK. Well, um…should we start a shopping list?"

* * *

"So, did you sleep with Snart?"

Sara had been expecting some sort of question on that front, but she'll admit, Kendra's directness startles her a little. Still, she thinks she manages not to show that reaction, settling for a raised eyebrow as she continues to inspect the menswear section, contemplating what the guys will need for at least the near future.

"Yes," she says, a touch dismissively, reaching out to touch the sleeve of a fine white dress shirt. Someone's going to have to do some ironing here, and it's not going to be her. "As in, s _leep_. We were both exhausted and we're grown-ups. What's with the voyeur thing all of a sudden?"

The other woman ignores the question, but shakes her head, a small smile touching her lips. They'd both been a little concerned that they'd stand out—Kendra for the color of her skin, Sara because, as Kendra points out, she pretty much always moves like she's looking for a fight. But for whatever reason, they haven't really attracted a second glance, and they've both relaxed a little as that became clear. It's good to be out of the car.

"Mmhm. You _are_ adults," Kendra points out quietly, joined her in looking at an array of sweaters. "And you flirt constantly on…on the Waverider." She stops a moment at the reminder of the missing ship, then shakes her head and continues. "I guess I just wondered if it was going to be a thing."

"Why would it be?" Sara regrets the question immediately. She really doesn't want to drag this conversation out, she tells herself. Even as she's wondering what Kendra thinks she's seen. "Damn, some of these things are ugly," she murmurs, eyeing the sports shirts nearby. "I think we need to get that bright red-and-orange plaid one for Ray. Just because."

Kendra chuckles, but she's not distracted. "I was there, in that hallway, remember?" she says in a low tone. " 'Time to choose a side, I guess'? He chose you."

Sara frowns at her. "He chose the team. And the ship."

Her friend just gives her a _look_. "Right," she says, a touch drily. "Which is why he gave you this really long and intense look right before he did it. And why he picked himself up off the floor later during the fight and went staggering down the hall when he realized you'd gone after Mick."

"He was probably just worried about Mick." But that's still not a comfortable topic, and she knows it. "Gossip, really? That's not like you." Sara gives her an arch look. "We're going to have to get back to training if you have this much time on your hands here." Then she sighs, turning back toward the women's section. "If we can find something decent to wear. Dresses are fine sometimes but I really want some pants."

Kendra shakes her head, but apparently lets it go. For now. "We need some pajamas too," she says, lowering her voice impishly. "Unless you're sleeping naked…"

"Kendra…"

* * *

They all manage to meet on time at their rendezvous point, a diner Kendra had been able to identify as a relatively safe place for a meal even for their mixed group. The women are carrying shopping bags; the men are clean shaven, and each group breathes a visible sigh of relief at seeing the other.

Len pays for their food with someone else's money and Ray huffs a little, but he also didn't resist ordering a steak dinner and apple pie for dessert. Sara, pushing the last little bit of her coconut cream pie around the plate with her fork, smiles a little as they squabble quietly about whether to get a hotel somewhere in the city (Ray's vote, so he can explore the city) or head for the outskirts, where rooms might be cheaper.

"You two lovebirds can get your own room again if we do the latter," Len says finally, with the air of a man playing a trump card, and Sara very carefully doesn't look at Kendra. But she's pretty sure the other woman is smirking at her.

But, "I'm voting for that" is all her friend says. "Tip the waitress really well, Snart. That other table's giving her a really hard time."

* * *

The neat little motel just outside the city limits is indeed far cheaper than the downtown, just as Leonard had expected. He could've grumbled about millionaire inventors and how they don't realize how much things cost, but he holds his tongue, watching as Raymond (white and male and likely to be deemed the most honest looking of all of them, after all) heads for the office.

Kendra decides to stretch her legs again, leaving him and Sara alone in the car. Len glances in the mirror, but Sara has her eyes closed, her head resting back against the seat, and he hesitates, looking back out the window and second-guessing his impulse to offer Raymond and Kendra their own room again. He might want Sara's company again tonight, but he's not sure what she's thinking, and he's not sure what they're still dancing around, or how he feels about that…

But she, apparently, has been reading his mind. Again.

"You OK bunking together again, then?" Her voice from the back seat is soft, but matter of fact, and he glances over his shoulder, seeing her eyes now open, watching him.

"Fine. You?"

"Yep." She smiles at him briefly, something complicated in the expression, and he's still trying to decipher that when she stretches and opens the door to the backseat.

"Here comes Ray. I'm going to help Kendra carry the bags into their room," she announces. "I'm not sure which bags have her stuff and which have mine. See you in there for our little team meeting?"

Len nods, opening his own car door to check the keyring Raymond chucks at him and grabbing the bag with the clothing and assorted accoutrements they'd picked out for him. He opens the door to the room, flicks on the light switch…and snorts, unable to conceal his amusement.

"I'm starting to think this is the Boy Scout's idea of a practical joke," he mutters, shaking his head, dropping the bag and turning away from the king bed. "Or Bird Girl's."

If it was, neither reacts as he lets himself in to their room. Sara nods to him from where she's sitting cross-legged on the bed with Kendra, while Raymond's taken the armchair, from which he seems to be telling them about his experience at the barber shop. Len himself grabs the desk chair, turning it around and planting himself in the seat, leaning forward against the back.

Raymond stops talking as he does so, sitting up alertly, and the ladies glance at each other, then at Len.

He remains silent, though, and finally Raymond speaks up, looking at Kendra as he does so.

"I...we...trust you," he says, glancing at Len and then back at Kendra. "But we need to know where we're going, what this plan of yours is. If only to have something to work toward, you know?"

Len considers him long enough to make the inventor fidget, then shrugs.

"That's fair," he acknowledges. "Long term? OK, then." He looks at Sara, letting her steady gaze remind him of why he's doing this. "I know we all still hope the ship's gonna come back. But we need to prepare for it if it doesn't. To get work that's more than temporary, we need ID. Driver's licenses, birth certificates." He nods as Raymond makes a noise of understanding. "Licenses are only just starting to have photos on them, we can get away without them. We just need a good forger."

"So, how do we do that?" Kendra asks.

"I get into a bigger city, I can find someone. There's always someone." He knows his tone is cynical but, well, it's the truth. "We just need money. Hence the 'illicit activities' you're so scornful of. And I'm going to have to make a big score soon to do that."

* * *

 _I'm_.

He's setting himself alone on that. Sara frowns at Leonard, knowing he sees the expression by the way his eyes flick to her and away. But Ray's still hung up on the 'illicit activities' part of things, and frowns at the other man, his expression slightly mutinous.

"Can't we, I don't know, take odd jobs or something?" he asks stubbornly. "I don't like stealing."

She can see Len visibly gathering his patience, but she's impressed when he restrains himself from the level of snark he'd no doubt like to use.

"One, that'll take forever," he informs Ray. "We don't have forever. Anything we scrape together, we'll be spending along the way on food and housing. Begin as you mean to go on, Raymond. The longer we scrape for survival, the more we'll look like we're...the sort of people who scrape for survival." A fleeting frown. "Trust me."

There's almost certainly a story there, but Sara merely nods in support, as does Kendra. Ray himself looks like he can't argue the truth of the words, but he'd certainly like to. Len heads him off at the pass by pointing at him.

"And," he says, " _you_ have the best chance of getting the kind of work that has potential here, for the kind of place we could set up shop in. You want people to take you as white collar. Don't go down another road."

His voice is terse and Sara decides to give him a moment, even as Ray starts to ask. She speaks up, glancing at Kendra and finding understanding there.

"Kendra and I could find work," she volunteers tentatively. "We've both done the customer service thing. They might be a little less...stringent...than something more professional."

Len gives her one of his half-smiles, like he knows exactly why she'd spoken, but he also looks...reluctant. He shrugs after a moment.

"Yes," he drawls, fixing her with a direct look, "but you've never done it in the '50s. You'd be fine...until someone slaps your ass and finds himself trying to breathe around a knife."

Sara takes a breath, a little stung, but he pursues the comment, staring at her, eyes intense and direct.

"It's not you anymore, but...you got the bloodlust under control?" he says quietly. "Fully? Do you want to bet on it?"

She frowns and looks away, and he turns the look on Kendra, who's chewing her lip.

"And if some stuffed shirt gets a hawked-out Egyptian demigoddess in his face, it might be even worse," he says. "Savage will hear. Somehow, he'll hear. And we can't take him. Not yet."

For a long moment, all four of them are quiet. Sara doesn't know about the others, but she is, again, feeling the walls of their situation closing in around her, desperation rising like a tide. She can't stay here, she thinks wildly, can't stay in this stifling, close-minded world where she can't dare speak her mind or exercise any of her skills. Ray will be OK, and Kendra will manage: she's got a lot of history under her belt. But...

She hears Leonard clear his throat, and glances over at him.

His gaze is steady, fixed on hers. There's no judgment in it, and really no hidden message, not this time. But it grounds her, oddly, reminds her that there's someone here who _gets_ her. It's not the first time she's thought that. It's not even the first time he's been a lifeline of sorts. ( _"Sara, don't do it..."_ ) But it's the first time they've been in quite this sort of situation, with so few safety nets. (No safety nets, really.)

She takes a steadying breath and nods.

After another minute, Len reaches into his back pocket and takes out a folded map, which he tosses onto the bed. After a moment, Ray reaches for it, and Kendra leans over to look.

Sara keeps looking at Len. He returns the look, then turns his attention to the map.

"This is where I think we should wind up," he says quietly. "Nickel City. University town. _Northern_ university town. Quite liberal for the time, cheap housing, and work for someone with...advanced ideas about the sciences. The university's trying to make a name for itself that way."

He pins Ray with a look. The other man looks pleased for a moment, then concerned.

"I don't have any references, though," he says. "They'll want..."

"We fake it." Len cuts him off. "You baffle 'em with science-y bullshit; you're good at that. Get in the door. Take it from there."

Ray visibly tries to decide if he's been complimented or insulted. Kendra smiles at him, then looks at Leonard.

"And me?" she says folding her arms. "Since you've got this all figured out?"

There's a little asperity in her voice, but there's amusement too. Sara, watching, recalls that Kendra and Leonard haven't really interacted much. There's a…basic practicality, she supposes…to both of them that's not dissimilar, despite many differences

"There's a better chance than the usual of something that's not too…" He stops, considers. "…of opportunities that might not exist other places. Now, I'm pretty sure the concept of a 'barista'…" Smirk." "…doesn't even exist yet, but you should be able to find something, say, as a cook. If you don't want to play Susie Homemaker, anyway."

Kendra rolls her eyes at that, but Ray glances away and flushes, presumably at the notion that he and Kendra will continue to play married, then looks back.

"And you?" he shoots back. "What are you going to do?" He darts a glance at her. "And Sara?"

Sara starts to retort, but Len beats her to it. "Gonna have to work on that," he says, and there's an air of something off in his tone. Weariness? Sara eyes him as he considers his words again.

"Our skill set is a little…unique," he adds finally, glancing at her with a smirk as if the weariness had never been there. "And, no, Raymond, before you can ask, I'm not planning on picking up my former profession full time. For it to be effective at all, I'd have to devote more time than I'm hoping we'll have to it—and move around a lot more, which also goes against the end goal here." He sits back. "But I can only speak for until we get back home."

"Here's hoping," Sara murmurs, trying to keep her own pessimism from her voice. Kendra gives her a look, but Ray and Len continue their stare down.

"You certainly seem to be settling in for the long haul," Ray says after a moment. "Don't want to face what you did? To Mick?"

It's unexpected enough that Sara blinks at him a moment before standing up, ready to let him have it, verbally, anyway. They'd been no anger in Ray's voice, though, and no accusation, just what might even be a sincere query. Maybe that's why Len doesn't so much as flinch, just stares at him with opaque eyes.

"I did what I had to do, Raymond," he says, quietly. "Just like I'm doing here. Survivor."

There's that word again. There's got to be a story there.

Ray sighs. "Do you really think I'm that much of a fool?" he says with a little bitterness in his tone, staring at the older man. "Really?"

Sara almost expects Len to go for the easy score there, but no. He regards the other man for a long moment, then shakes his head.

"No, Raymond," he says, his tone tired. "I think you're an idealist. And while there might be good things about that..." He points at the inventor as Ray starts to open his mouth. "...though I'm never going to admit that out loud again, it's not always practical. And we have to be practical, right now, or our odds of surviving this relatively sane and in one piece dip dramatically."

And there's really nothing Ray nor anyone else can say to that.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Sara glances up from where she's sorting through the clothing purchases, looking for the pajamas she'd bought. Len had gone for a walk after their little meeting, and she knew him well enough to let him go. If he wanted company or commiseration, he knew where to find her. "Why?"

He's taking off his boots just inside the door, not looking at her, and pretends (she's pretty sure it's pretending) that he doesn't hear her question. Sara thinks back, then sighs, putting down the neatly wrapped package and turning to him.

"What? About the bloodlust comment?" She shrugs. "It's true. I think I'd be OK...but I can't swear to it. And that would really mess things up."

He finally glances up at her and nods. Sara continues to watch him, wondering if she's going to get diffident, cold, snarky Snart back instead of the thoughtful, focused Len of the past few days. Both have their pluses, but she kind of likes the latter.

And she can't imagine the former being willing to hold her again tonight, and she sort of needs that.

If they're going to talk about Mick, she decides, now is not the time.

"You were easier on Ray than usual," she says instead. "Thanks for that. He's a good man, he's just..."

Leonard smirks, and "a Boy Scout," they both finish in unison.

"He's a pain in the ass," Len mutters, but his heart doesn't seem to be in the insult. "And a little too…" He thinks a moment. "…convinced that if he gives people that goofy grin, they'll do whatever he wants. Not that it doesn't seem to work out for him, but Raymond Palmer vs. all the institutionalized racism and sexism of the 1950s still isn't a bet I'd take."

He sits down on the bed next to her. "He thinks he can change the world. Sometimes the world doesn't change."

Yes, definitely the thoughtful version.

"I know" is all Sara says for the moment, then hands him the bag. "Here. Clothes. Make sure they fit. I tried to meet any observed…" She gives him a once-over, then lifts her eyebrows at him, trying to get a smile. "…sartorial preferences."

A momentary twitch of his lips as he takes the bag and gets to his feet is all she gets, but she'll take it. "Thanks."

"Got you some pajamas, too," she notes as he turns toward the bathroom. "They look like something out of a '50s sitcom, but they should be more comfortable." Than either all his layers or, for him, going without.

There's another flash of gratitude, and then he vanishes.

He's in there long enough that Sara simply shrugs and strips after a few minutes, putting on the loose silk pajamas she'd found for herself. A pale violet, they cover pretty much everything—far more than the slip of last night, actually—and were the closest thing she could find to work out in, at least at that store. After a moment, she tries out a spinning kick, smiling to herself when the material doesn't rip or pull too much. She can get Kendra training again, restore a little bit of normalcy, and maybe even convince Leonard to spar…

A movement from the corner of her eye catches her attention, and she drops her stance, turning. Len's standing there, watching her, arms folded and the usual watching-Sara smirk on his face. He's wearing the pajama pants…but the gray T-shirt she'd only seen in the very dim light last night, his forearms bare.

It's the most skin she's ever seen from him, at least in the light. Another measure of trust.

"Nice" is all he says.

Sara rolls her eyes at him, glad she'd managed to keep from reacting to his relative undress. "Some people this time don't seem to think women should be able to move," she informs him. "Or sweat. But these will do for now."

"Indeed."

Sara shakes her head, unable to keep back a smile. With a laugh, she drops back onto the bed, stretching her arms out over her head. It's late, really. She's a little tired, but not exhausted like the day before, and she hopes that she can sleep all right. And that the nightmares stay away this time.

"Jax and I told Stein, back in Harmony Falls, that the 1950s were only these...halcyon days of yore...if you were white, and male, and straight," she says with a sigh, staring at the ceiling.

After a moment, the light flickers off, and she feels Leonard drop onto the bed next to her, also stretching out, feels his eyes on her. She turns her head so she can see him, and smiles a little again as he studies her.

"Well, I suppose one out of three for each of us isn't too bad," he drawls.

She considers that, then tilts her head to consider him. He meets her gaze with a steady one of his own. Jax, when telling her about his escapade with Len and Mick in 1972, had showed her the newspaper clipping about Lewis Snart, complete with photo.

"Your mom?" she asks finally.

The edge of his mouth tilts up a little. "Yeah. She was...well, they called it mixed, back then. I suppose in these days that makes me nearly just as much a travesty by the standards of the time." He looks up at the ceiling. "She'd be 7, somewhere out there right now. Can't help thinking about it."

"Hmm." Sara hesitates. He's obviously feeling forthcoming, but she's not sure how far she can go with that. "What…happened to her? I know you pretty much raised your sister." He'd glossed over that during one of their card games, when the topic had wandered toward siblings, and regrets.

His expression darkens, a little, but he just sighs. "I have no idea. She was…just gone one day. Lewis said she left."

"Did you ever ask Gideon?"

A long pause. "No."

Sara wants to ask why. She doesn't. Instead, she just turns onto her side, moving toward him a little, reaching out to touch his nearest hand. And, after a moment, his fingers curl about hers.

Sara holds her breath, feeling like she's trying to tame some strange, skittish animal. _A_ _wild_ _crook_ , she thinks, a touch hysterically. Well, it's been a few pretty weird days.

"Because if she cared so little about us—Lisa was only a baby—that she ran away and left us with Lewis, well, I don't want to know about it," Leonard said finally, quietly. "I have a few good memories of her. Just as well to let those lie. And if... if what I've always suspected is true and Lewis 'had an accident'…" His fingers twitch, and Sara tightens her grip an infinitesimal amount.

She doesn't ask the obvious question here, either. And after a pause, Leonard speaks again.

"Killed him once," he tells her. "I can't kill him again. So there doesn't seem to be much purpose in knowing."

* * *

He's not sure why he'd told Sara that, really.

The only one who knows is Mick, and even Mick doesn't know his inner thoughts on the matter. It's just not the sort of thing they talk about. Lisa just knows she'd left. If she's put together any suspicions—and she probably has—well, they don't need to share them.

He can hear Sara next to him, breathing in the darkened room. She doesn't need to say anything. He knows she gets it.

That's probably why he'd told her, actually.

After a moment, she tugs on his hand. Just a small tug, really. The same sort he'd given her the night before, an undemanding invitation to cross the space between them, to share warmth and comfort in the middle of all this uncertainty, this time that's absurdly decades before either of them were ever born.

Hell, Sara's parents probably aren't even born yet, he thinks—then decides he's not going to dwell on that one.

Instead, he accepts. He moves closer, and she moves into his arms with another sigh, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around his torso.

Close. Too close? Leonard closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe. This is safe, this is Sara. This is…OK.

He's not sure how long they lie there like that before he starts to drift off, but he's heading there when Sara speaks again.

"You didn't kill Mick," she says quietly, lips moving against his shirt. Not a question. Just as if…she wants him to know she knows.

But after a moment, he answers anyway.

"No," he tells her, staring into the darkness and thinking about one more reason he desperately needs to get back to the Waverider. "I didn't."


	3. In the Magic of Moonlight

Sara sleeps soundly that night, so soundly that when she blinks in the morning light, she's a little disoriented...especially since there's no longer a nice, warm crook right beside her. She wakes up fast, though—survival skill—and the next thing she's aware of is the sound of another person moving quietly around the room, clearly trying not to disturb her.

Len shrugs when she sits up and yawns at him. He's already dressed, in one of the more casual suits they'd purchased, and grabs the black wool coat even as she watches, shrugging it on.

"Coffee?" he inquires.

"Damned right." It's a little odd, Sara thinks, as she watches him head out the door, that all her instincts didn't wake her up sooner at the sound of someone moving around the room. Sleeping with someone—in whatever capacity—isn't a guarantee of safety, after all.

And that thought right there is an excellent yardstick of the way her life has gone over the past 10 years. With a sigh, she pushes back the covers and gets to her feet, padding toward the bathroom. Time to get moving again.

When she emerges, enjoying the luxury of wearing something different for the first time in several days, even if it is still a dress, Leonard's sitting at the desk, a newspaper spread out in front of him and a steaming cup of coffee at his side. He pushes another one toward her without looking; she grabs it and takes a big sip, sighing as the caffeine hits her.

"Mmm. Thanks," she says, sitting down on the bed. "What are you looking at?"

"Local paper."

Forthcoming. Sara considers pressing the point, then shrugs, sipping her coffee again. They sit for a while in a companionable silence, ingesting caffeine, before Leonard shakes his head, looks up at her, and offers a half-smile that's almost apologetic.

"I miss Google," he mutters, staring back down at the newspaper in his hands. "I might be old school, but this is _not_ efficient."

Sara nods, figuring it out. "You're looking for a likely heist."

"Hmmm."

The noncommittal sound is as good as a confirmation. "Not just a bank?"

Leonard glances up at her again. "No. Bank robbers, most of 'em anyway, get busted. Robbing a bank, it's an excellent way to make sure you're caught, shipped off to prison." He looks thoughtful a moment, then shakes his head. "No, we need something more…transitory."

Sara starts to ask more, but someone bangs on the door at that moment, a noise followed by Ray's cheerful "You two decent in there? It's us!"

Len rolls his eyes, but Sara smirks and rises to get the door. Ray pretty much bounds into the room, followed by a more sedate Kendra (she and Sara share an amused glance) and waving a white paper bag.

"There's a bakery just down the road!" he announced, depositing it on the desk, narrowly missing the newspaper and earning an irritated glare from Leonard. "We come bearing doughnuts."

He picks up the bag and holds it out again. Leonard stares at it, then flicks a noncommittal look up at the grinning scientist.

Ray waits.

Leonard looks back down at the bag.

Then, with an annoyed noise, he reaches out and snatches it, earning a victorious whoop from the other man and a chuckle from Kendra, who holds another bag out to Sara much more calmly.

"They're good," she says. "Baked from scratch and fresh this morning. You don't get them like that back…home…much anymore."

Sara had already removed a doughnut from her bag and started to devour it. Licking cinnamon sugar from her fingers, she grinned at her friend. "Not even at Jitters?"

The other woman snorted. "Not likely. Our coffee was awesome. The rest? Varied widely."

Leonard's put away his newspaper and is trying, without much success, to keep his chocolate-iced doughnut from shedding crumbs across the surface. Finally, he sighs and gives up, eating quickly and as fastidiously as one can with sugar-smeared fried dough. Sara watches, amused, until she catches Kendra smirking at her knowingly.

She throws the wadded-up paper bag at her friend, who laughs and throws it back. Ray and Leonard stare at them in bemusement for a moment, then seem to realize they're actually agreeing on something, a realization that makes Ray grin again and Leonard sigh.

"Thanks," he mutters grudgingly after a moment, wiping a wayward bit of icing from the desk surface, then speaks again before Ray can respond to the gratitude. "But time to move on now. Heading for River City, if there are no objections."

Ray raises his hand like he's in class. "I want to go back to that department store in Opal." He nods as Leonard lifts an eyebrow at him. "I want to get a portable typewriter and some equipment, and paper. You say I should fake my way into this university in Nickel City? Then I need a resume and some…documentation. Better if I start working on it now."

Len eyes him, then huffs an acknowledgment. "But," he says, even more grudgingly, getting to his feet, "not in Opal. We shouldn't retrace our tracks if we can avoid it. We'll find something in River or on the way, though."

"That's a ways away," Kendra points out as Ray nods in satisfaction. "More than a day, isn't it? Why there?" Then she snaps her fingers, smiling. "They had...have...legalized gambling right now, didn't they?"

Leonard doesn't answer, but Sara pins him with a look. "She's right, isn't she?"

That gets them both a typical Snart smirk. Len reaches for his hat and coat and, clapping the former on his head, heads for the door without an answer.

Ray actually bounces, following him. "Oh! Are we going to rob a casino? Like Ocean's 11? Are we going to be Snart's 4? Can I be Brad Pitt? Or…"

Sara, checking the room for anything they'd forgotten, shakes her head, imagining the response that's going to get. Inspection done, she turns for the door, only to run into Kendra, who's grinning and eyeing the still-mussed bed. The covers are tossed back and, Sara realizes, it still undeniably bears the impression of two sleepers—close enough together to be more or less one impression.

"Not sleeping together," Kendra murmurs. "Uh huh…"

"Grow up," Sara murmurs back, stepping outside, waiting for the other woman, and closing the door behind them. "Told you we shared the bed. Not the same thing."

And then they're all climbing in the car together, and she gets a reprieve.

For now.

* * *

Leonard refuses to tell Raymond anything about his plans for River City, and the man actually accepts it with more grace than he'd expected, switching his topic of conversation (there's always a topic of conversation, with Raymond) to his desire to find a bookstore and educate himself on current accepted physics knowledge.

Given that Leonard would rather like to do the same, as far as the bookstore goes, he's not going to argue, for once. Instead, he just lets the words wash over him, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, pondering variables and heists and plans.

Fact is, he's not 100 percent what those plans are, just that the possibilities in River City are intriguing. As he'd told Sara, he needs something more transitory than a bank, and all the money flowing in and out of the casinos offers more possibilities than he can easily pinpoint elsewhere.

He just needs some specifics…and to come up with a plan that he can pull off solo, because (for more reasons than one) there's no way he's dragging the rest of this motley crew in on it.

("You could leave, easily survive on your own," the devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear. "Why worry about them?")

("Rip's more likely to find the group," he whispers back to it, "and Raymond's more likely to be able to come up with a way to signal him.")

(The devil snorts. It sounds remarkably like Mick. "It's got nothing to do with Blondie?")

"…I don't think he's listening to me. Snart? You in there?"

He blinks, recollecting himself, and manages a slightly sour "Where else would I be, Raymond?"

The other man is undeterred and, he thinks, unfooled. "I said that you've been doing all the driving. I can spell you, if you want. I have a perfect driving record and…"

"Of course you do."

Sara snorts at that and Kendra, who's in shotgun this time, giggles. Raymond plows on. "…and I studied the map. Seriously. I can drive for a while. OK?"

There's really no reason not to let the man except for his own slightly control-oriented nature. Len struggles with the thought a moment, then shrugs. "OK. After our next break."

Raymond looks altogether too pleased at the words.

* * *

Sara more than halfway expects Leonard to find a reason to renege on the driving thing, but he's true to his word. After they get sandwiches at a roadside stop for lunch, he reluctantly waves Ray toward the driver's seat, declines Kendra's offer of shotgun and climbs into the backseat, folding long legs into the space and leaning back with a sigh, closing his eyes as Ray starts up the car and carefully pulls out onto the road, talking happily about road safety all the while.

She gives him a few moments, then nudges his knee with hers and, when he opens his eyes and glances at her, she waves the deck of cards at him.

The smile that spreads across his face—a real smile—warms her more than she likes to admit.

"Didn't realize you had those on you," he says quietly, moving his legs and trying to make more room on the seat.

"I didn't. Bought 'em in Opal City." Sara starts to shuffle. "I figured eventually we'd have a few minutes when we weren't exhausted or busy and then…" _I'd rather play cards than think._ "…then we'd need something to do."

Belatedly, she expects commentary from Kendra at those words, but the other woman is busy talking to Ray. Thank heavens for small favors.

Len nods and she wonders if he'd heard her other unspoken words. But if so, he doesn't comment, just accepts his cards and starts to inspect them.

And so the hours pass.

* * *

They stop, planning to stay the night as well as do a bit of shopping and have dinner, in a town about the size of Harmony Falls, this one named, in an equally generic fashion, Blue Springs. Ray finds a parking spot on the main drag right across from a likely looking store, checks his available cash (Leonard starts thinking about where he's going to have to acquire more) and hurries inside. After a moment, Kendra follows him.

Leonard nearly says something but hesitates and lets her go. Kendra's a grown woman, he thinks uneasily. She can handle it herself. Sara, frowning, seems to note his unease, but simply deals the cards again.

But not five minutes later, Kendra's back, mouth a thin line, anger not well hidden behind her eyes. Ray follows, looking equally pissed, and he pulls the car out of the spot a good bit more aggressively than before.

"I don't want to stay here," he says shortly, looking at Kendra, who's still glaring daggers back at the store. "There's another town up the road; we can get a room there. Maybe take-out."

No one asks, just then, but no one argues, either.

* * *

They're fortunate. There is, indeed, a motel in the next town. It even has rooms available, and a restaurant not far away that's willing and eager to serve them some pretty good food in take-out fashion.

They all eat, quietly, in one of the rooms. Sara, watching, sees Ray put his barely touched spaghetti down after only a few bites and grab his jacket, heading for the door. Leonard frowns, and setting his own food down, follows.

Kendra looks up only as the door closes, then sighs, putting her head in her hands. "Ray…" she mutters, starting to get up, but Sara puts out a hand to stop her.

"Leonard went after him. He won't let Ray do anything too stupid," she says. "I think. What…happened?"

"It's 'Leonard' now, huh?" But Kendra's heart isn't in the teasing, not this time. "There was an…incident…in the store. That's all."

Sara picks at her chicken. "They threw you out."

Kendra nods. "They threw me out. There were…" She hesitates. "…some very unpleasant words used. _Very_." She sighs. "It's not that I haven't been expecting it, at some point. We've been fortunate so far. But it was…unsettling."

"Hell, yes. You worried Ray's going to do something?"

"I think he's trying to be chivalrous." Kendra sighs. "But you can't fix stupid. I'd rather just keep going."

Sara watches her a moment, then puts her meal down and, leaning over, hugs her friend, a hard squeeze that tries to convey support and her own measure of anger at what'd happened. Words, she thinks, can't really help that much here.

Kendra hugs her back. "Sorry you got stuck too," she murmurs, "but I'm glad you're here."

* * *

"Do you _know_ what they called her? What they said?"

Raymond is pacing in the parking lot, coat and hat on, agitated and furious. Leonard, who'd taken the keys from the other man's pocket already (although he's pretty sure Raymond doesn't know that yet) watches him, leaning against the car, arms folded.

"I've got a pretty good idea," he observes, letting just a hint of his own considerable anger, hidden behind the chill, into his voice. "Lots of idiots out there, Raymond. And it's enough the norm right now that they feel entitled to air that idiocy."

Raymond stops and stares at him. "We can't just let them…"

"And what are we going to do about it?"

"I could go back, give them a piece of my mind…"

"One, don't you think Kendra should have a say in that?" Leonard shakes his head as Raymond blinks at him. "It's her life, her business. At the very least, you should ask her first. My guess, she'll feel different. People like that…you try to argue with them, they just feel more entitled to their idiocy."

The inventor visibly deflates. "I just…want to do something."

"I know." Leonard pauses, studying him. "So let's go back inside. And I'll tell you what I'm thinking."

* * *

Kendra laughs out loud when Leonard tells her his idea. "I know it's not right," she says with a grin, "but if you need to get it somewhere anyway…"

That earns her a Snart smirk. "Precisely," he drawls. "So. You two stay here, get cozy." He cuts Ray off with a wave of his hand as the other man starts to speak. "They saw you, remember? Your part is giving me a rundown on the layout of the store, everything you can remember. Sara and I," he glances at her, and Sara gives him a nod of acknowledgment, "will head out later. Back before you know it."

Kendra gives Sara a _look_ as soon as Leonard turns his back. Sara's so pleased to see her friend smiling again that she doesn't even roll her eyes in return.

A paper blotter from the motel desk quickly becomes the base for a quickly sketched diagram, Ray and Leonard muttering at each other over the details and Kendra providing clarification and correction here and there as Sara watches in amusement. It's after midnight when Leonard finally nods, ripping the drawing off the background and grabbing his coat. Sara does the same and, winking at Kendra and Ray, heads out the door after him.

"You OK being getaway driver?" he says once they've been back on a road a few moments. "Nothing against your breaking-and-entering skills, but I'm thinking I can get in there and out in minutes alone. It'll help to have someone waiting."

"Sure." Sara tilts her head and eyes him. "You got gloves? They did have fingerprint ID at this time, I think. And you won't be in their system, but…"

"No, but I'll wipe everything down. I…" He snorts as Sara pulls a pair of thin black gloves out of her pocket and waves them at him. "…or I'll just wear gloves. Thanks."

"Welcome. Figured they might come in handy."

* * *

Nine minutes.

That's how long it takes Leonard to return, pockets stuffed full of the store's cash, from the time Sara slips into the driver's seat to replace him. He hops in the passenger seat, giving her a smirk, and she pulls away out immediately, smirking in return.

"Guy was an idiot in more ways than one," is all Leonard says at that point. "He apparently kept his week's take in the safe rather than sending it to the bank every night. And locks don't come much cheaper than that one." He shrugs. "It's not the big take we need for ID but…it'll keep us going for now."

His smile turns just a touch mean. "Sometimes it's fun to be…karma. Not the first time I've done that."

They make it back without incident, decline to bother Ray and Kendra (time enough to celebrate in the morning) and hide at least part of the money thoroughly in the car before heading back to their room.

Ray had gotten them a single bed again. Even Leonard doesn't bat an eyelash at this point. They take turns changing, then pretty much collapse into it. Sara laughs, adrenaline still fading, and stretches her arms over her head.

"This feels like Bonnie and Clyde," she says, staring at the ceiling, grinning. "I know that asshole won't even know why he was targeted…but it makes me feel better."

Leonard snorts, smirking when Sara turns her head to watch him. "Nah. Bonnie and Clyde were messy," he says, looking at the ceiling himself. "Clyde Barrow, anyway, he liked to kill. He had his reasons, but he was … sloppy." He shrugs when Sara raises her eyebrows. "I like to read. And that gang's methods…they remind me of Lewis'. Better to plan it out tight and get away clean."

Another confidence she hadn't expected. Sara nods, acknowledging it.

"I can see how the high of it can get addictive," she says. "The planning and the puzzle, the rush of pulling it off…without getting caught…without bloodshed…"

That draws a low "hmmm" of agreement. "And this wasn't even a slightly intricate heist," he points out, looking over at her. "Did I ever tell you about the way I met the Flash?"

No, he'd never told the cop's daughter anything about his heists. Not until now.

"No," Sara repeats out loud, moving toward him in the dark. "Tell me."

* * *

Ray buys his typewriter the next day at a department store in the small city of Five Corners, returning to the car with the machine, its accoutrements, a good notepad and pens for Leonard, a necklace for Kendra, a knife for Sara, and a smug grin—all of it paid for by the other store owner's money, except for perhaps the grin.

Leonard, who'd suggested the other man get a few less-than-necessary items in addition to the necessary ones, smirks. And stops next at a bookstore, whereupon even more money gets spent on things that aren't, well, necessarily necessary.

They're all in good spirits as they set out toward River City again and, of course, that's when it goes wrong.

Ray's driving again when the car suddenly starts to slow. "Crap," the inventor says, peering at the gauges. "Ohh…crap. Something's wrong? But I don't know what it is."

Kendra leans over, studying the dash herself, even as Leonard, who's actually been dozing in the backseat, startles awake, putting a hand out to keep Sara, who's been leaning against his shoulder, from falling over. "What?"

Ray's pulling the car over. "Do you hear that noise?" Then, as the vehicle comes to a stop: "Oh, crap. I swear I didn't do anything!"

Kendra pats him on the shoulder and starts to climb out of the car. "No one says you did, Ray."

As Sara blinks sleep out of her eyes, Leonard starts to speak, then visibly restrains himself. "Peachy," he mutters instead.

"Look on the bright side," she tells him quietly. "At least it didn't happen last night."

He almost smiles. "True."

Eventually they're all outside, three of them standing there at the side of road and watching Kendra study what's under the hood. Sara, who freely admits her automotive abilities mainly involve hotwiring, shakes her head.

"AAA exists now, doesn't it?" she wonders out loud as Ray hovers over Kendra's shoulder and Len watches them both with barely concealed impatience.

"Yeah, but it's not like we're members." Ray shakes his head. "OK, I get technology, but this is…old. I'm not sure…"

Kendra laughs at him, turning away from the engine and patting his arm again.

"A car's a car," she says confidently, rattling off a string of jargon—apparently the problem at hand-that makes Sara blink. "I got this."

"Do you need anything?" Leonard cuts in as Ray opens his mouth to ask a question.

"Bought a basic tool kit back in Opal. Seemed practical. It's in my bag."

"I remember that. I'll get it." Sara rummages around in the trunk and returns, handing the kit to Kendra. "The clerk thought it was 'so sweet' you were buying it for your 'husband.' "

The two women snicker and Kendra pushes up her sleeves, leaning over the engine again. Ray looks a combination of sheepish and proud.

"I mean," he tells Leonard earnestly, "I can fix my ATOM suit and that's much more complicated tech, right? Like you can fix your cold gun."

Leonard gives him a look. "Say the word if you need anything," he tells Kendra.

"Thanks. At least these '50s updos are keeping my hair out of my face."

* * *

After a moment or two, Leonard shrugs, sitting down in the front passenger seat and stretching his legs out in front of him. After a moment or two of Raymond hovering awkwardly around until Kendra snaps at him, though, he sighs to himself and gets back to his feet.

Bird Girl is going to owe him a favor.

"Raymond."

The other man glances at him, then trots over. "What?"

"I think we need to stretch our legs. After being cooped up in that car."

"What? I mean, yeah, a walk would be nice. But...do you think that's safe? I mean..."

" _Raymond_."

Kendra gives him a look of gratitude. Sara, leaning against the hood next to her, just smirks.

The day is actually warm for this time of year, and the ground isn't either too slick or too muddy. It actually _is nice_ to stretch a bit _._ Leonard strolls along and ponders heists and Raymond looks thoughtful and thinks…whatever Raymond thinks about. Science, presumably.

After a bit, Leonard decides they've gone as far as he's comfortable with and they turn to head back to the car. However, when they get into eyeshot, there's another car there, too. A beat-up Thunderbird...and two men climbing out of it and sauntering their way toward Sara and Kendra.

Raymond draws in a breath and starts picking up his pace. But Leonard, going by instinct, puts a hand out, stopping him. He studies the men for a moment, then checks to make sure there's no one else in their car. Then he nods to himself, slowing his pace and moving just a little into the trees

Raymond gives him a startled glance, but follows, although he continues watching the scene with anxious eyes. They can just barely hear what's going on.

"Hey there, little ladies," the weedy-looking blond oozes, leaning against the car. "Stuck out here? No boyfriends to help you?"

"What'll you trade us for some…help?" the other one, the one with body-building pretensions and mousy brown hair, leers, leaning next to his friend. "Out here, all by yourselves. Bet no one knows where you are…"

They're not bright. Leonard shakes his head but tilts his head to get a better view. Kendra looks unimpressed. Sara looks…yes, Sara looks just this side of gleeful.

"Sorry, boys," she informs them, folding her arms. "We don't need the likes of you. Run along."

"I don't think you could have figured it out anyway," Kendra points out, tone cool and insulting. "It took more than two brain cells."

The men gape at them, apparently uncertain of how to deal with women who don't seem either afraid, simpering, or at the very least polite. Then Mousy Hair's expression goes from stunned to angry.

"You _bitch_ ," he growls, stepping toward Sara as his friend starts toward Kendra. "You're gonna learn some respect…"

Raymond starts forward again at this point. "We gotta…"

"Raymond." Leonard's tone actually makes the other man pause. "Kendra and Sara. They're both fighters. And they haven't had a good fight since we got stuck here." He nods as Raymond makes an "ooooh" noise. "And in fact, they couldn't fight anything yesterday due to…circumstances…although you know they both really, really wanted to.

"And now we're out here with no witnesses and these two yoyos. Who certainly won't tell anyone if they get their asses kicked by two girls. Now, what do you think the ladies will think of _you_ trying to play the hero and butting in?'

Raymond blinks. Then he steps forward anyway. "Hey!"

The men, startled, look toward the treeline. The inventor waves.

"Nevermind!" he calls cheerfully, then looks at Sara and Kendra. "Fuck 'em up."

Then he steps back again, watching as the show begins.

Leonard manages to retrain the surprise he knows showed on his face into a more suitable smirk. "Why, Raymond," he drawls as the other man glances at him. "You actually dropped an F bomb. I'm proud of you."

Raymond grins at him. "Really?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Putting the fear of…well, them…into those two assholes has Sara relaxed in a way she hasn't been since the Waverider lifted off. And, yeah, she doesn't want to think about the ship, but she's going try to keep that contentment going as long as she can.

Although it's probably a little warped that beating the crap of people is what caused it, no matter what kind of jerks they are. Oh, well. She'll own it.

Leonard's almost certainly right about the men being unwilling to admit who'd put them in their place. ("By the time they make it back to whatever hamlet around here spawned them, their story will feature at least half a dozen prizefighters, who mercilessly attacked those two 'heroes' when they stopped to do a good deed," he says cynically.) Still, they turn off the main road just in case the desire for revenge outweighs pride, going a bit out of their way and looping backward just a little to find some place to lay low for rest of the day and night.

The smallish town they find has Leonard frowning as he drives along the main street and Kendra looking as if she's torn between trying for a fight and asking to just pass on through. But when Sara and Ray make a quick, exploratory foray into a cheerful-looking diner, they emerge to beckon the other two inside after only a moment.

The waitress calls them all "hon" indiscriminately; the food is excellent and plentiful. By the time they get a recommendation for a motel just a little farther down the road, stop at a liquor store for a small, celebratory bottle of scotch, get two rooms (they should be conserving the money, but no one wants to do it that way), and settle into Kendra and Ray's to crack the bottle, they're all flush with satisfaction and, in the case of Sara and Kendra, leftover adrenaline. Even Leonard is smiling, a little, leaning back in his chair with his glass and watching Kendra fiddle with the radio as she tries to find a station with decent reception. He's not paying much attention as Ray keeps chattering at him, but he's not snarling at the man, either.

Sara, watching him and sipping her own scotch, thinks he's also as relaxed as he's been since they've been here. Probably even since...Mick. And she's not going to point that out and ruin it.

Kendra makes a noise of satisfaction as she finally gets a station without a ton of static. Sitting back down and curling up next to Ray, she hums along to the music, leaning her head back against his shoulder. Ray puts his arm around her, looking...content.

Sara, smiling, glances at Leonard, expecting to see at least some amusement there. Instead, he's now frowning, a pronounced "v" between his eyes, watching the couple. His eyes flick to her, then away, and, after another moment, he's modulated his expression again, into that slightly sardonic, slightly fond expression he'd been wearing when they'd first seen Ray and Kendra together, just after they'd nearly frozen to death. Before Mick.

"Bird Girl...Kendra," he drawls after a moment. "Remember how you felt today. At the car. OK? Don't lose it."

Ray blinks at him. Kendra lifts an eyebrow.

"You mean pissed?" she asks with amusement.

Leonard shrugs, studying his drink. "That too. But..." He hesitates. "...like... _yourself_. Not just in the fight, fixing the car, too. Doing...your thing. The adrenaline..." He shrugs again, using the name he usually avoids. "...of being Hawkgirl."

Ray starts to ask something, but Kendra holds up a hand, forestalling him. "OK," she says slowly. "I think I see what you mean. And I will." She shakes her head. "But for now, I'm just feeling content. And not even you, Snart, are going to mess with that."

With those words, she gets to her feet, crossing the room to turn up the radio just a little as a new song comes on. Then she turns to reach out a hand to Ray. "May I have this dance?"

The inventor laughs and climbs to his feet too, crossing to her.

"Of course, m'lady," he says, bowing a little and then pulling her into his arms. "It'd be my honor."

"I would climb the highest mountain..." A man's crooning voice comes over the airwaves. "...I would swim the deepest sea..."

"I think this might be our cue to leave." Sara blinks as Leonard's voice interrupts her own reverie, and she glances over to see him rising, reaching for his coat. "Want to go for a walk?"

She glances back. Kendra and Ray don't seem to be aware of anything other than each other. "I think you're right. And yes."

"I would climb the highest mountain," the singer continues, "so that I could always be with you...with you, just you..."

* * *

After the relative warm of the day, the evening air is crisp and cold, but not uncomfortably so. There's a bright, nearly full moon as Sara hums the song to herself almost without thinking about it, doing a few dance steps across the parking lot as Leonard follows a few steps behind, looking a little lost in thought.

He doesn't seem to have any particular goal, and they're really out in the middle of nowhere here—just a single row of hotel rooms and the office. Sara assumes he just wants to get some fresh air, work out some nervous energy, maybe reduce any odds of hearing...activities...from Ray and Kendra's room. She's fine with all that, doesn't need a destination, so when she does one particular dance step and runs right into him, she's a little surprised he hasn't just moved out of the way.

Especially when his hand settles at her waist, his other hand reaching up to take her other hand.

For a minute, they stare at each other in the moonlight, caught in a position that would look like a frozen moment from a romantic dance to anyone watching. Kendra would _smirk_ , Sara thinks a touch ridiculously, as she looks up at the man in front of her. Leonard's watching her with something complicated and perhaps a little vulnerable in his eyes, and she wonders if she should go up on her tiptoes for a kiss...

Then, lifting their linked hands over her head, he suddenly spins her into a pirouette, out and away from him, dropping her hand and grinning at her as she catches her balance. It's a rather unSnartlike move, both the motion and grin, and though Sara's a little disappointed (it's not that way with them, really it isn't, _really_...), she laughs as they fall into step together again.

"Thought you couldn't dance?" she asks teasingly.

"Never said that."

"Hmm. I suppose that's true enough." She glances over. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Just to the office. I think there's a newspaper box there."

And so there is. Sara watches as he fishes out a coin, deposits it in the machine and removes a paper. Leonard glances at the headlines, a flicker of interest crossing his expression for a moment, but then folds it and tucks it under an arm, glancing back at her. She expects to head right back to the room, but he doesn't move, watching her with an enigmatic expression.

Two people can play this game. Sara watches him back, steadily.

"Not to drag this down," he says slowly after a few moments, "but did Hunter ever tell you about something called 'time drift?'"

Not what she'd expected. Although she's not sure _what_ she'd expected. "No. What is it?"

Leonard doesn't answer that question right away either but gazes out at the lot. "I asked Gideon, once, what would happen if someone were...stuck in a different time, for a longer period of time," he says. "Longer than we're usually there. A time period not their own."

It's not difficult, given what she knows, to realize why he'd asked Gideon that particular question. For a moment, the shadow of Mick hangs between them. Sara almost involuntarily reaches up to rub the long-healed burn on her arm, the one where her one-time friend had tagged her with his heat gun. She's pretty sure Leonard marks that motion, but he doesn't comment.

"She said there's a thing called time drift, when people in that situation can...start to forget," he continues after a moment. "To lose who they really are. To become part of the time they've stayed in. Sort of a survival thing, really."

Sara can put two and two together. "You think Kendra and Ray...what, are starting to feel that?" she asks, idly brushing snow off the box and leaning on it. "This time drift?"

But Leonard shakes his head. "No. Not yet. But I think they're at risk for it. Something to keep an eye on."

"And we aren't? At risk?"

He meets her eyes, then, and his lips twitch. "Well, we are, too, if we're stuck here too long," he points out. "But I think you and I tend to have perhaps...more _restless_ personalities. And I trust you to notice if I start to do something as unusual as...get too comfortable here."

The words warm her, and the unspoken corollary is, of course, that she can trust him to do the same. Sara smiles, shaking her head. "True," she says. "So. I'll watch out for you. You watch out for me. And we'll both watch out..." She nods toward Ray and Kendra's room. "...for them."

"All I ask." Leonard gives her a brief smile. "Now. Let's head back to our room?"

 _Our_ room. "Lead on."


	4. The Stars that Fill the Skies

Author's note: This is a long one! Also be forewarned that it gets more adult toward the end. ;)

* * *

In the middle of the night, for the first time in many years, Sara Lance wakes up as the little spoon.

They'd fallen asleep close, but not like this. Len's warm breath—slow and steady; he's still out like a light- is hitting her ear, and his left arm is thrown over her, the other one curled and pillowing his head. Their legs are tangled together, and it's the most...intimate...way they've slept yet, even though they're both still fully clothed.

Sara lies awake for a while, listening to him breathe, all that restless, fidgety Snart energy tamed, for once, in sleep. She's not entirely sure how they've gotten themselves into this position—literally _and_ figuratively, she thinks with amusement—but she feels...

It's not _safe_ , not precisely, or at least not because of him. She trusts Leonard; he's earned that, but she's the only one she truly relies on for her own safety. Content? Not quite that, either. Their situation is still precarious, and she vehemently doesn't want to stay in this time, no matter how much they scrape out some measure of satisfaction and peace from time to time. And she's still worried about the others, Martin and Jax and Rip and even Gideon.

She doesn't know what she's feeling. In more ways than one.

She's attracted to Leonard. She can own that. He's a good-looking man, with just the right level of muscle without being brawny, and his eyes are _amazing_. Their personalities mesh well, too, even though they might, together, be a little too prone to snark. She enjoys his company, their card games and conversations. Even before this, she could say that she'd grown to consider him a friend. (And frankly, the competence and leadership he's shown since this debacle started is damned sexy.)

But is she starting to fall for him?

Lying there, warm and comfortable in the arms of a crook, knowing that they're going to get up tomorrow and keep working like the team they've become, trusting and relying on each other for backup and companionship and hope, she thinks...

Maybe.

* * *

The next morning isn't awkward—not quite. Still, there's a touch of...something...in Leonard's eyes when he returns with coffee for them both the next day (having vanished before she'd gotten out of bed again). Something a touch distant, and Sara can't help being a little disappointed by that.

She knows him well enough, though, that it doesn't take long to realize the distance is coming from distraction. He's pouring over something in the paper he'd gotten at the honor box last night, focused in a way she's come to recognize is Snart plotting mode.

She doesn't ask. He'll tell her when he has a plan. Instead, she takes a healthy swig of coffee, clears her throat, and raises her eyebrows in a different question when he glances at her. He reads it correctly.

"We need to hit the road as soon as possible today," he tells her, getting to his feet and stuffing the folded-up paper in his coat pocket. "Need to get to River City."

Sara snickers, grabbing her coat. "Going to go bang on Ray and Kendra's door?"

That gets a smirk. "What do you think?"

* * *

Leonard's not sure whether to be pleased or slightly disappointed that Raymond opens the door very nearly ready to go, just a little annoyed at the imperious hammering. Both he and Kendra do look rather tired, though, and Len resists the urge to make a crack at their expense.

So does Sara, who's being careful about such things around Kendra for some reason. She snags shotgun this time as he drives, and the lovebirds sit together in the backseat, where they're almost certainly likely to fall asleep with the hour.

He'd slept well. Extremely well, actually. Of course, he'd also woken up in a...situation...that now has him wondering why Sara hadn't slipped a knife between his ribs for his unconscious temerity.

But she hadn't. And he'd woken up like that...then spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to disentangle himself without waking her and making it clear where his mind had been...and how certain portions of anatomy had been all in for the idea.

On second thought, maybe his ribs weren't where she'd have put that knife.

For quite a while, the car is silent, a contrast to the actual camaraderie of last night. Raymond and Kendra do indeed fall asleep, and a soft snore now and again is the only sound from the backseat. Sara seems lost in thought and Leonard, frankly, has a lot on his mind, too, so he's content to watch the road and go over the checklist in his head as the miles pass.

Eventually, though, he feels Sara's eyes on him and glances at her briefly, lifting an eyebrow to indicate he's aware of her gaze.

"So," she says after a moment, "why the urgency to get to River City?"

Of course she'd noticed that. Leonard considers denying it, but he's pretty sure she wouldn't buy it anyway.

So he prevaricates. "Sooner we get there, sooner we can figure something out, move on."

"Hmm." No, she's not buying it, but he can more or less see her deciding whether to pursue the subject. To his relief, she chooses the latter. "How's the car handling? Kendra said it should be fine, but she couldn't guarantee how long."

"Seems OK. Might have Raymond get it looked at in the city." He darts her an apologetic look. "Not that I wouldn't rather you or Kendra do that…"

She finishes the thought for him. "…but we're women and we'd probably get laughed at or someone would attempt to scam us. And then we'd be obliged to kick his ass. Although that'd be its own reward."

Leonard snorts in laughter despite himself. "True. Probably not effective, though."

"Probably not." Sara sighs. "As much as I hate to admit it, we sort of need to do something else unpleasant and necessary too. Laundry."

"Ehhhh…" Leonard gives her an apologetic look. "Can you and Kendra handle that? This time, anyway."

Her expression is resigned, but Sara nods. "Yeah, I figured. We're getting an iron and you guys are ironing your own shirts, though."

"Wouldn't dare to dream otherwise."

"And what are you going to be doing?"

So they're back there again. Leonard keeps his eyes on the road. "Research."

* * *

He's not looking at her. And, OK, granted, he's driving, but it's a very pointed sort of not looking at her. And Sara knows Leonard Snart well enough by now to know that lack of eye contact is the most notable tell for discomfort he has.

There's something he doesn't want her to know. Or something he doesn't want to tell her, or both.

Her earlier unease, that he'd have enough of this whole thing and just vanish one day, leaving them to struggle on, flickers back to life. She shoves it away viciously. If he hasn't done it yet, why now? Especially since they'd just talked about looking out for each other, and the others.

But… "If you're going to do _something_ , just promise me you'll tell me first."

That gets a glance, an odd flicker in his eyes. "Pardon?"

"You heard me."

He hesitates, long enough that the unease, paired with anger, starts to resurge. Then: "Promise."

And she'll have to be satisfied with that, for now.

* * *

They make pretty good time to River City, and Leonard (missing online maps more than ever), with the others helping keep an eye out, eventually manages to find a decent-looking mechanic's shop just a few doors down from a coin-operated laundromat.

This leads to a group conference, as they pool their money and calculate expenses for the near future. Leonard, counting, shakes his head. They can manage…for now. This isn't sustainable.

Well, part of the reason they're here is so they can take steps to start changing that.

So _he_ can.

Unfortunately, perhaps, the others haven't forgotten that.

They've settled on a rough plan that involves Raymond taking the car to the mechanic for a once-over ("Do _not_ agree to anything without consulting Kendra first, Raymond") while Kendra and Sara do a few loads of laundry, something they're not precisely thrilled by but agree is necessary.

Leonard merely says that he'll back soon.

Three sets of eyes regard him with nearly identical expressions.

"So," Raymond says after a moment "are you here to make a…score?"

How can the man make that sound so cheesy? But there's no point in denying it. "Leave that to me." After a moment, he qualifies it. "Not now. But I need to do some…reconnaissance."

Sara makes a noise of irritation, then, and gets out of the car, grabbing a few of their bags and heading toward the laundromat. Leonard can't help glancing regretfully after her. But he doesn't want the rest of them in on this, damnit, and he has his reasons.

Raymond shakes his head. "OK," he says with a sigh. "I get it. You don't want us tagging along. But, Snart, we're all in this together. We're trusting you. You should trust us, too."

And then he gets out of the car, grabbing the other bags to carry them in for Sara and Kendra.

Leonard waits, but Kendra, in the backseat, doesn't move. Instead, she regards him steadily in the rear-view mirror, for so long that he eventually turns around to meet her gaze directly.

"I get it," she says finally, echoing Raymond's words, holding up a hand at his expression. "No, really. They might not, but I do. Ray is brilliant, but…well. He's Ray." Her lips curve. "I love him, but I'm not blind to his faults, Snart. And Sara…I think you know how stubborn she is." He snorts at that, and her smiles grows. "And she _hates_ being protected. She went through a lot so she could protect herself."

"I _know_ that." He winces at the defensiveness in his voice. "Hell, she could kick my ass. With a hand tied behind her back. But this isn't the sort a thing where Sara's MO of being, well, a blunt instrument is going to help. And…"

"And what you're trying to protect her from isn't quite what she thinks you're trying to protect her from."

Leonard frowns, both at the knowing words and the undercurrent therein. Kendra's eyes are direct, and a little sad.

"I wasn't always a barista," she says quietly. "And sometimes I remember. Running into Savage, back in Harmony Falls…it brought some things back that I'd really rather not have recalled. And while 1950s women's prisons aren't as bad as some punishments throughout time—and I'm thinking you and I both know that Sara's been through worse—that doesn't mean they don't have the capacity to break people. Especially if a person's lost all hope of going…home."

The words cut to the quick, knowing what he's done to Mick. And she needs to understand that it's not that he _usually_ plans on himself, or his people, being caught. "If I had more time…"

But Kendra holds her hand up against his explanation again, and he's bemused enough at her authoritative attitude that he does quiet, listening to what she has to say.

"I get it," she says again. "Just…I know we need the money, but don't think we'd leave you behind either, OK? If something goes wrong? You've kept us alive this long; you're part of this team."

Leonard's still digesting that, dealing with an odd and not-wholly-unpleasant feeling of…acceptance, he supposes …when Kendra sighs and leans forward, putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Snart…Leonard," she says after a moment. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but…take care, would you? Please don't make Ray try to organize a prison break, because you know he would."

That gets an actual laugh out of him, for the mental image it creates. Leonard tilts his head in acknowledgment, smirking.

"And Sara?" he asks. But while he'd meant for a rather sardonic tone, the question comes out vaguely…plaintive, really.

"Sara?" Kendra smile grows, and suddenly, with a rush of insight, he knows exactly why Sara's been so careful around her the past day or so.

Oh, _crap_.

But Kendra doesn't give him even a fraction of the shit she could. Instead, her smile becomes almost fond.

"Sara…" she muses. "I think Sara would tear down this city, this time, until she got you back. Do you know that?"

 _Yeah, because I'd do the same for her_. But he doesn't answer, just looks at her steadily.

It's enough. Kendra nods, once, pulling her hand back.

"Then do what you have to do," she says. "And thank you. But remember. We need you. _Sara_ needs you."

* * *

Doing laundry while Leonard is off doing god only knowing what is, well, irritating. Sara scowls at the laundry spinning in a washer while Ray, back from the mechanic, is chattering away and Kendra is _very_ patiently (in Sara's opinion) asking him questions about what the man said.

She's so lost in thought that she doesn't notice, at first, that Kendra's also talking to her.

"What?"

Kendra raises an eyebrow. "You OK?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

The other woman gives her one of those patented _looks_. "Because you'd rather be out there skulking around with Snart and you're stuck here instead? Because you're pissed at him for not talking to you about it?"

Sara refuses to dignify the questions with an answer. Kendra just rolls her eyes and goes back to talking to Ray.

The plan was to stay at the laundromat until a pre-agreed-upon time, then, if Leonard wasn't back yet, to head down the road to a motel they'd checked out earlier. He's not, and they do. Ray emerges from the office and hands Sara her own set of keys without comment.

She takes them without comment as well, even though she'd told him to go ahead and get one room. Well, she supposes that he and Kendra want their own space…and even though she's pissed at Len, she'd still rather curl up with him…

After she tells him off, anyway.

They head next door to a little restaurant to get some food—Ray had scouted it out earlier and reported that it seemed to be safe. But even as they're being seated, their missing crook strolls in the door, taking off his hat and joining their party without comment, just a charming smile for the young waitress. (Who seems, indeed, to be charmed, considering the way she bats her eyelashes at him.)

Sara gives him a level, unimpressed look. (Which he ignores. Aggressively.) After they've ordered and the flirting waitress has delivered their drinks and gone to check on other tables, Ray leans forward across the table and whispers, "So?"

Leonard leans back and takes a sip of his water. "So what, Raymond?"

"So…" Ray casts a slightly confused glance at Sara and Kendra and then looks back at the other man. "Your…reconn...um. What you were doing. How did it go?"

"Went fine."

"Are you done?"

That just gets him an unimpressed look. (Which Kendra notices is the mirror of Sara's earlier look, although she doesn't point it out at the time.) "No. What was the verdict on the car?"

That successfully distracts Ray, mainly because he can extoll Kendra's virtues in the field of auto repair. Kendra, correcting him and adding information, ignores the elephant in the restaurant too. Sara, who thinks she's probably being childish but just can't help it, continues to stare down into her drink and think annoyed thoughts.

After a while, the waitress—Mary, her nametag says-returns with their meals, sliding them across the table with smiles for them all, but especially Leonard.

"You seen all the fancy types in town for the gala?" she asks with barely concealed excitement. "I mean, we get all types here, for Slot Row. But my friend, who works down at the Goldeneye Hotel, she says they been pouring in the past few days, even though it's not 'til tonight. And, boy, do they like to tip!"

For a heartbeat, three of the people at the table try very hard not to look at the fourth person at the table.

"We're just passing through," Sara says, putting a sincere (she hopes) smile on her face and learning toward the woman, "on the way to Opal City. A gala? That sounds like fun!"

Mary grins back at her. "Doesn't it? But it's bigwigs only. Some political thing."

Kendra, joining in, laughs. "Eww," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Yeah, not our type of party. But, yeah, I bet the tips are great! I remember…"

She continues, spinning a story that Sara is pretty sure is a 1950s-appropriate adaption of a true incident from her CC Jitters days. Soon, they're bonding over shared food-service experience, and Sara's decided to…tone down and tweak…a few stories from Verdant and share those too. Ray and Len share glances, the former grinning and the latter inscrutable, and chime in a few observations here and there.

All in all, Sara thinks, she's pretty sure they've successfully kept Mary from connecting the friendly strangers who'd left the nice tip with any…problems…that might occur at the fancy political event down on Slot Row.

She hopes.

* * *

"You're going to rob the gala."

Sara's voice is matter of fact and absolutely certain. She's standing in their room, arms folded, watching him with an odd expression—something that's somehow determined and uncertain at the same time.

There will be no equivocation here. Leonard pauses in studying the two double beds with some regret. (Raymond had told him there were no kings available, _sotto_ _voce_ , on the way back here, obviously looking for a reaction he didn't get.) He studies Sara instead, at a loss for how to handle this, at a loss to explain why he cares.

"If all goes well," he confirms eventually, dropping his coat onto a chair, "I'm going to...divert...the proceeds from the event, yes."

Sara snorts at the euphemism, but he also thinks her shoulders relax, just a little, when he admits it.

"OK," she says then, "what's the plan?"

He draws in a breath, then goes for bluntness. And tries to channel the chill he doesn't usually use, with her. "Nothing you need to know. Better you don't."

Sara's eyes narrow, and there's steel in them…and a little bit of hurt. "Bullshit," she hisses. "You need backup. I'm not letting you do this alone."

"You don't get a say," he snaps back, losing the chill, spurred to urgency with the need to keep her out of it. "This is _my_ plan. _I_ say what I need."

Of course—and he should have expected this—his brusqueness just cements the anger and insistence in her eyes. "Seriously? After all…after all we've been through on the ship and here, you're just going to…to freeze me out? I know you get the need for backup; you lit into Rip…"

"This is different."

Sara takes a step toward him, eyes blazing. "Bullshit," she repeats. "I'm going with you."

She can't. She can't, and the panic that elicits in him startles him and pulls truth from him, makes him step forward and lower his voice, trying to show her his sincerity, his… _fuck_..feelings.

"No," he says again, voice low and intense as Sara stares up at him with furious eyes. "No. I haven't had time, and I don't have the information, to plan this like I usually would. It's too…sketchy, too sloppy to drag anyone else in, to risk anyone else."

Sara looks a little startled by the sincerity he's trying to convey, but she's too very… _Sara_ …to back down. "I'm not just anyone."

"No, you're _not_." Too much, too much truth, but he can't back down. "You're…I am _not_ leaving someone else behind."

To Sara, at least, it's undeniably clear who and what he's talking about. She blinks up at him, and he can see her mouth the name, but she doesn't say it, not out loud. For Leonard's part, he's startled to realize that he's nearly shaking with the need to make her understand. Abandoning Mick, that last-ditch shot to save his partner…his friend's…life had been the worst of plans, thrown together on the spur of the moment when it became clear a nuclear option was necessary.

He'd had no clear idea how he would manage to convince Hunter to go back for Mick after a cool-down period, whether he'd be able to steal the jump ship again, if the team would even tolerate having either one of them back after that. If Mick would ever forgive him.

And now it's worse. So much worse.

This plan isn't much better. Sure, he'd been planning as he went today. He has the framework, the bones, of a decent heist. But it's hasty and so many things could go wrong-no, could go catastrophically wrong. And Leonard knows it. He's planned too many heists—and suffered through too many poorly planned Lewis heists—not to.

Sara's still quiet, watching him, and he's not ready to say all that out loud, whether or not she knows it anyway. So he tries to throw more logic at it.

"Raymond is the most likely person to be able to figure out how to signal the Waverider," he tells her, taking another step closer. "We can't risk him getting locked up. Kendra...no way in hell I'm going to risk what could happen to _her_ if she was arrested. And the same with you."

Sara's chin goes up. "You do realize I've been through worse than prison," she tells him in return, voice just as low and intense as his.

Leonard takes a breath. "Yes," he says quietly—thinking about both quiet conversations over cards and the file on Sara he'd looked up on the ship's computer. "I do. I know about the Amazo, and I know it was hell." He meets her eyes. "Not again."

There's surprise there, and her tone softens, a little. "I don't need you to protect me, Leonard."

That draws a snort from him. "You think I don't know that?

"I know you do." She shakes her head. "Damnit, you stupid crook, I'm trying to protect _you_."

The words rattle him, a little, more than he shows, more than he thought they would. He's not used to this.

Lisa had tried, back when she became old enough to realize that he so often took the punishments and blows meant for her. He'd done his best to train her out of that impulse—and for years, wondered if he'd damaged her in a way he'd barely considered at the time. But it'd been necessary.

(And then Lewis had reappeared and tried to hurt her again, to hurt him-and goddamn Barry Allen and his silly team had stepped in. That's a completely different set of mixed feelings.)

Mick had protected him, way back in juvie, of course. And he won't think about Mick.

"And I appreciate that," he tells her instead, trying to show it in his voice. "But you...you three...need me to keep doing my thing so we can survive this. Living out of hotels, ripping people off and moving on...it's not sustainable." He shakes his head. "I plotted this heist out for one person. And I'm going to do it. You…if the worst happens, keep the other two moving. Give Raymond a chance to figure out how to signal the ship. Then…break me out."

They both know that's not the worst that could happen. Sara shakes her head too, as if in denial, but they know he's right.

"When?" she asks simply.

Leonard glances at the clock. "Maybe…an hour. It's early yet, but I still have some things to put into place. And I need to be sure that I don't…can't…lead them back here."

Sara draws in a deep breath, holds it a moment, then lets it out. "Then…sit down." She pulls the deck of cards out of her coat pocket. "Talk to me. Tell me if there's anything I need to know." She shakes her head again as he eyes her. "I promise I won't interfere. But maybe I can help with logistics, anything you're still working out."

After a minute, Leonard nods.

"Well," he says, taking a seat on the edge of one of the beds and watching as Sara shuffles the cards, "whenever someone's transporting a great deal of money, there's always a weak point…"

* * *

Sara never thought she'd miss the constant access to news so familiar to her native time, but this...this is torture.

She crosses the room again, restless, unable to sleep, although she knows she should on the chance they'll need to move quickly—whether it's all four of them or only three of them. If all goes well, though, they'll just stay put until the next day; running, as Leonard had noted, is always bound to attract more attention than just looking confused and asking the nice police officer what all the excitement is about.

Sara, who had, after all, spent years as a thief of a sort herself—albeit a thief of lives—understood.

That didn't mean she had to like it.

Leonard's been gone for hours now. Which was to be expected, since he'd plotted a very circuitous route to and from Slot Row, along with multiple changes of clothing and personas. This is his business, and he's very good at it, despite his unease at the lack of time and his usual meticulous level of planning.

She knows that.

But…damn it. Sara sits back down on one of the beds, putting her head in her hands and trying to breathe. To center herself.

She can't do this without him.

It's just past 3 a.m. when there's finally a nearly imperceptible noise at the door. A glance through the peephole and she has it open before he can pop the lock, pulling him into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Are you OK?" she demands, taking in the weariness in his eyes, the empty hands, the same navy suit he'd left in. "Leonard. Are you all right? Do we need to leave?"

He holds up a hand, and she takes a breath, steps back, stops the flood of things she wants, needs, to ask. He seems to be in one piece, unharmed at any rate, but there's a shadow there, something behind his eyes, and she's not sure what it is.

"I got the entire take," Leonard says quietly after a moment. "It's stowed safely; we can get it tomorrow. Should be more than enough for what we need." He shrugs out of the suit coat. "And they got…someone else…for it. So I think we're clean."

Sara sighs, letting herself relax a little bit. But he's standing there in the middle of the room staring down at his jacket like he's not sure what to do with it, and something's certainly gone wrong, in some way.

"Good," she says finally, not entirely sure how to handle a Snart in this mood, but relieved that he's back safe. "Then…want to help me here? We could push the beds together; I'm pretty sure a double alone wouldn't be that comfortable for you…"

But there's a flash in his eyes, then, something complicated and unhappy, and she sees the cold persona settle over his features like a mask, an uncanny transformation right before her eyes. He drops the jacket on to a chair and shrugs, chilly gaze meeting hers for only a moment before sliding away.

"I think I can live without...snuggling...for a night." And there it is, the harsh, dismissive edge that's been missing from his voice since they've been stuck here, since he's been distracted by the task of keeping them all alive and moving.

It's like a kick in the stomach, given how much they've…given how much she'd _thought_ they'd grown together over the past few days, but Sara's suddenly too tired herself, body and soul, to call him on it.

"Suit yourself," she says simply, turning away, exhausted. "Suit yourself."

* * *

She's tired enough to sleep, although it's a fitful sleep, a discontented one. Leonard's changed and stretched out on the other bed, facing away from her without so much as a "goodnight." Sara, staring at the ceiling during one of her periods of wakefulness, decides that maybe the Leonard she'd seen over the past few days had been the façade.

Now that there's money, he'll be gone as soon as possible, shedding the rest of them like an ill-fitting cover story, she thinks. He'll slip away into the night, into the criminal underbelly of one of the bigger cities, and she'll be left behind trying to hold them together, to hold on to hope, to…find somewhere she belongs.

There is somewhere, even in 1958. She's been trying not to think about it. But Nanda Parbat is, at least, a place to go, somewhere she could fit in again.

"No…"

The mutter from the other bed breaks into her unhappy thoughts, and Sara blinks, rolling over to peer through the darkness at the tossing, turning shape across the room.

The next noise is inarticulate, but clearly pained, and she sits up. Maybe she's still pissed at him, pissed and hurt, but for now, he's still a member of her team.

"Leonard?" she whispers. "Are you OK?"

"Don'…don't do it…"

A dream. Rather, a nightmare. Sara's had too many of those herself to feel anything other than sympathy. She starts to climb to her feet, but before she can do more than that, he makes another one of those wordless noises of pain, louder this time, and starts to thrash around, lashing out at something he's seeing only in dreams.

"No…!" His next panicked blow sends the lamp crashing from the table, and he flinches at the crash, but doesn't seem to wake.

They're not next to Ray and Kendra this time, and if someone calls the cops… Sara hurries over, jumping back as he lashes out again, then climbing onto the too-small bed next to him.

"Stupid, stupid, stubborn crook," she chants under her breath as she tries to figure out how to help without getting an unintentional blow or freaking him out more. "You should have talked to me. Should've helped me push the beds together. We're…better together, you idiot. Damn it, Leonard. Come back!"

At that point, she just catches his right hand in hers, blocking his blow at an unseen assailant, leaning forward to put her other hand on his shoulder, moving it up after a second to gently cup his jaw. Because whatever he's seeing in dreams, it's not gentle, not at all.

And that, against the odds, works. Blue eyes fly open, staring blindly at her, but he stops the thrashing instantly. Instead, he struggles to sit up a little more, shaking his head with agitation before trying to focus on her again.

"Sara," he says, his voice rough and perplexed.

"Yes."

"Sara."

"Yes," she repeats, keeping her voice as gentle as possible. "I think you were having a nightmare. You were getting really loud and…and a little violent, and I didn't want anyone to call the cops. You OK?"

But her words draw an immediate recoil from him. "Violent?"

"Yes. No…not to me," she adds, leaning forward again and catching his shoulder again. "You were just thrashing around and…I was worried."

Leonard closes his eyes again and takes a deep breath, then another, some of that terrible tension running out of his shoulders. Sara, very gently, very tentatively, starts to knead the muscles on which her hand is resting, moving to sit next to him.

"Sorry," he mutters again after a minute. "I…"

He's staring off into space again, but Sara isn't about to let it go this time.

"What happened out there?" she asks quietly. "Tell me."

* * *

He doesn't want to talk about it. But it's eating at him, and he's pretty sure that Sara, this time, isn't going to let him pull his usual bullshit of retreating into the ice.

He glances at her. Yeah. Definitely not.

"It was going according to plan," he says finally, closing his eyes. "I had my mask on; I was waiting at the point where there should have only been two guards, right before they got to the armored car and the others. But...

"There was this pair of dumb-ass kids. Eh, maybe about 20 years old. I heard them before I saw them, and they didn't see me. Reminded me a bit of me and...me back in the day, but I was never that stupid." He opens his eyes, staring into the dark, into memory. "You can tell a plan isn't a good one when two idiots like that come up with the same one. Well, a similar one.

"Except their plan wasn't much more then 'go in with guns blazing.' " Leonard shakes his head. "It would have been a bloodbath."

Sara's pulled both her legs up onto the bed, moving a little so she can work on both his shoulders. The touch feels really good, actually. "So what did you do?"

She's simply assumed he wouldn't let it stand. Well. She's not wrong.

"The two guards carried the take out in a bag," he said after a minute. "Right on schedule. The idiots moved in, guns drawn. So I… shot them."

Sara's hands still. "The...idiots?"

"Yes." His right hand moves up to rub at his left bicep, but he barely realizes it. "Just winged them both, in the upper arm." He glances back at her. "I know basic anatomy. I kept it as safe as I could, stayed away from arteries, or so I presume.

"Well, they went down, dropped their guns like the rookies they were. The guards pulled their weapons, and dropped the bag—they weren't the brightest, either-focusing on them, there was a lot of yelling, it was dark…" He shakes his head. "In the chaos, I got the bag. Got out of there, stowed it, changed, and circled back around to see what the buzz was. The press was already out in force and I blended in with them. Even had a notebook in my pocket."

He snorts. "The story is already that those two just had an accomplice who turned on them. That's where the investigation is focusing: on another idiot kid. No one saw me clearly, and there were no cameras. So I guess I should be pleased."

Sara's started rubbing his shoulders again, her fingers brushing the bare skin of his neck and he's trying not to lean into the touch. "So," she says quietly, "you probably actually saved lives tonight. Probably more than one guard, maybe even the would-be robbers."

Leonard hasn't really thought about it that way. "But…"

"But you know I'm right." There's a faint hint of amusement in her voice, and he can't help smirking a little in return, especially since he thinks that, just maybe, his earlier reflexive coldness has been forgiven.

But she needs to understand.

He pulls away, just a little, then, swallowing, abruptly drags his shirt up and over his head, dropping it onto the bed next to them. Sara watches with a little surprise in her eyes, but doesn't say anything, even he turns to better show her his bare left bicep…and the deep scar that still cuts across it.

"When I was about that same damned age," he tells her, "my father shot me. Same spot, more or less, though I'm pretty sure his motives weren't good. I was a distraction, so he could get away during a heist gone wrong." He holds himself still, trying not to flinch as she cautiously reaches out to run a fingertip over it, a sensation that raises the hairs on the back of his neck. "The damned thing still gives me problems. Still hurts at night, or when the weather changes."

He shakes his head. "And I did the same thing to those two stupid kids."

* * *

Sara has mixed feelings, at this moment. She wants to go find the two boneheads that nearly ruined Leonard's heist, make sure they're OK (for his sake), and then yell at them until they rethink their life choices.

She wants to go back in time and find Lewis Snart so she can kill him again.

And she wants…

She wants.

She runs her fingers across the vicious scar again, surreptitiously (or not so surreptitiously, really) running her eyes over the half-clothed man sitting in front of her. But this probably isn't a good time to act on the attraction, not when he's caught up in guilt and memory, and the last thing she wants to do is scare him off.

"You said it yourself," she says instead. "It could have been a bloodbath."

Leonard doesn't answer, although he does shrug. And he doesn't argue, either, and she'll take that, as long as he keeps thinking about what she's said.

She should go back to her bed. She should…

"C'mere, Len," she sighs instead. "I...I sleep better with you here. And I don't think either one of us should be alone right now."

Leonard regards her steadily. Then he nods, moving to stretch out, catching her wrist to pull her gently down with him

The bed is small, much smaller than they're used to now, but it doesn't matter much, because they're definitely well and truly in each other's space. Leonard hasn't bothered putting his shirt back on, and the warmth is radiating off him, striking in a man who usually gloried in such a chilly image, and Sara, lying next to him, only inches apart, glories in it.

Without even thinking about it, she reaches out with the arm that isn't curled up under her head and runs her hand down his back and then up again, palm smoothing over warm skin, callouses catching on the scars she'd just gotten her first look at.

He freezes, at first, and she does too, suddenly wide awake, cursing the drowsy impulse. But then…he slowly moves his own free hand around to rest on her hip, then up under her top, fingers drifting up her back, too, skin on skin, tracing her spine. The spark of electricity this causes makes her shudder, sensation prickling along every nerve, and she stifles a gasp of reaction, arching her back just a little.

 _Oh_.

Oh, this could be dangerous. Or wonderful. Or dangerously wonderful. All three?

Is she ready to go there? Is he?

* * *

Well. He's no expert, but from the way Sara's reacting, his touch certainly doesn't seem to be unwelcome. Far from it. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are slightly parted, and she's breathing far more heavily than he'd think a simple caress could account for.

So is he. And his breath catches again as she moves her hand around, trailing her fingers lightly down his bare chest slowly and steadily, bringing her hand to rest right on the waistband of his pajama pants, hooking her fingertips just inside.

And, holy shit, if he hadn't been hard before (and he'd definitely been on the way there), he sure as hell is now.

Sara follows up on that move by edging a little closer, and he follows suit, until they're touching just about everywhere, more contact than he's experienced in a good long time. Leonard, cognizant of his own ragged breathing, makes himself take a deep breath, then another, running his hand down her back again, sensitive fingertips tracing her spine, right down to the base, an area that seems to be particularly…sensitive.

She arches her back, gasping again, bringing her front into even closer contact with his chest and making a noise that seems to mix amusement, desire and frustration.

The first kiss isn't quite a real kiss. More...that their mouths sort of touch as they lie there, arms around each other, as she looks up at him and he tilts his head down to look to her. Her top lip brushes his bottom lip, lingering just a little, and they both hesitate, then move to readjust the angle.

The second kiss is still awkward in its own way, slow and unpracticed, as if they're still trying to pretend this isn't what it is. Lips brush, lingering and hesitant, but the angle is still off, and Sara hums to herself, then moves a little, adjusting it again, and darts her tongue between his lips.

Damn.

She tastes like something sweet, something he can't name, and he just enjoys it for a moment before upping the aggression just a little on his part, snaking his other hand around to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer. And all of a sudden, just that quickly, there's nothing hesitant about it; they're devouring each other, making out like they're never going to have this moment again, an air of desperation about the whole thing.

Somehow, through a combination of his efforts and hers, Sara's top has become completely unbuttoned, and she pulls back for just a moment to strip it off and fling it elsewhere before surging back to kiss him again, skin pressing to skin. They're both half-naked now, and her still-silk-clad thigh is moving between his legs, and he's moved his other hand to curve around her ass, and if those two layers of fabric weren't there…

It would be the easiest thing in the world to let go and do this.

 _But_. The corner of his mind that hasn't yet ceded control to other portions of anatomy points out. _But_.

Leonard is an overthinker. Always has been, always will be. It makes him an excellent planner, an exceptional crook, one who anticipates almost all contingencies (except, one time, a damned speedster) and prepares for them.

It makes him lousy at relationships.

They're stuck here. They might never get to go home. The realist in him knows it even as he's been trying to soldier on preparing for the best possible chance of making it there. And beyond all the planning, the pragmatic slog toward Nickel City and a situation where they can safely go to ground for a while, there's only one bright point in this whole damned mess.

Sara's here too.

Sara, who gets him on a level he's not sure anyone else ever has, not even Mick. Sara, who has her darkness too, but understands what it's like to wonder if you can still reach the light. Sara, who's every element of brilliant and bad-ass he's ever been attracted to.

If this goes south, and they fall apart, he'll be alone here.

Sure, this whole roll in the sheets could just be a friends-with-benefits thing. Maybe it is to her. But deep down, Leonard Snart acknowledges that he's well and truly falling for Sara Lance, the way he's only fallen for two other people in his life.

Neither of those times went well.

And the notion that he could ruin her presence in his life, drive her away, by pursuing this terrifies him.

Leonard breaks the kiss, pulling away with a gasp, putting a little space between them and trying to clear his head. Sara, whose fingers had been drifting south, stops her exploration immediately, reaching her right hand up to cup his jaw, eyes concerned.

"Are you OK?" she whispers after a moment. "Talk to me."

"It's OK. It's OK. It's just…need to slow down…I…" _I'm a little more fucked up than I've ever told you_. "It's not you. All right? It's not _you_."

She studies him a moment, then nods, pulling back a little herself. But he reaches for her when she makes a move to get up and she subsides back down to his side, reaching out to grab both their discarded shirts and pressing his into his hand.

Leonard takes it but doesn't move yet to put it on. Sara pillows her head on an arm and watches him steadily in return. There's no judgement, no anger or even irritation in her eyes, and that make it easier to say what he does next.

"Just…don't leave," he says quietly. "Give me time?"

He's never asked for such a thing in his life.

And on some level, he's stunned when she whispers "Of course."


	5. Guess You Feel You'll Always Be

Author's note: Long one! For the record, there are a few...guest appearances...and references in here. Not all spot on, canon-wise, but I couldn't resist. Enjoy!

* * *

Kendra will admit it. When she pushes back the motel-room curtains the next morning and sees the unmistakable tall, lean form of Leonard Snart sauntering his way toward the motel office, she breathes a massive sigh of relief.

Oh, she'd been sure Sara would have long since let them know if he hadn't made it back the night before. At least, Sara would have given them a warning before she went running off on a rescue mission herself. (Probably.) But they're on shifting sand here, in this time and place, and it's good to have her eyes confirm it.

And she just may be becoming fond of the smart-ass. Fancy that.

Ray comes up behind her, putting his arms around her and resting his chin on her hair, letting out his own sigh of relief when he sees the crook. While he'll never admit it, Kendra's pretty sure he admires Snart, in a strange way. The other man's willingness to break the rules, talent for reading situations and people, give-no-shits attitude—they're all things that Ray, brilliant as he is, wishes he had. (Although Kendra's come to the conclusion that the last one is a façade at best.)

"I wonder if it worked," he muses. "It'd be nice to...to stop moving, for a while. I have some ideas, about signaling the ship..."

"I know." She's heard. At length. And wavers back and forth between his optimism and Sara's pessimism, with a dash of Snart's realism thrown in for good measure. Still, for now, she'll go with the first option.

Kendra sighs again, smiling a little and preparing to let the curtains fall closed. For her, at least, sleep had been rocky; she'd actually hoped Sara or Snart himself would have found a way to signal them that all was well sooner than this, but...

As she watches, Sara, pulling on her coat, leaves the room a few doors down, hurrying after Snart, who, glancing back and noticing her presence, slows to let her catch up. Their shoulders bump, they fall into step, heads turned toward each other, Sara's face tilted up, his tilted down...

There's something...different.

"What is it?" Rays ask, following her gaze and giving her a concerned look. While he's been messing around with the other pair by getting king-bed rooms since that first night (when there'd been nothing else available), she's pretty sure he hasn't been seeing what she's been seeing. Well, she decides, he doesn't particularly need to.

"Nothing," she says, letting the curtains close. "Let's give the room another once over, make sure we have everything. Then I want coffee too."

* * *

Sara knows she looks tired when they finally meet Ray and Kendra at the car. And Leonard looks beat too, dark circles under his eyes, yawning as he drinks coffee that, for once, isn't half sugar.

Well, they have a perfectly good reason, right? He'd gotten back awfully late.

There's no reason at all the others should suspect what they'd been doing last night. (Or this morning, for that matter—Leonard's request for taking their time not counting a bit of making out against the bathroom counter). None at all.

Ray, trying (badly) to be surreptitious and press Leonard for information about the heist in vague terms, hasn't seemed to notice anything as they load the car with bags and prepare to take off again. Kendra…well. Kendra seems to be watching them with a thoughtful expression on her face, but there's none of the teasing attitude she had before.

Sara's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it seems to register with Ray that Leonard's still dragging from the late night and he happily volunteers to drive. Len rolls his eyes, but agrees with alacrity, climbing into the backseat as Sara slips in the other side and Kendra takes the front.

Ray reaches for the road map. "Where are we going?"

"Gotham."

After a beat, he amends the answer as the others look at him. "Northern part of the city, I'd say. Otisburg area. Or…better to leave the car in a better area, maybe Old Gotham, and hoof it in." He shrugs. "Picked up a new map; when we get closer, I'll drive or navigate."

After another pause, Kendra laughs and shakes her head. "OK, then. Might be nice to see it again, although I didn't expect it to be in 1958."

Sara hums thoughtfully to herself. "Well, you'll certainly find a forger there."

He smirks at her. "That's the idea."

Ray picks up the map, apparently still digesting the idea, but he's starting to smile. "Oooh. It'd be really cool to see the Golden Age of Gotham. I…"

"Silver Age."

"What?"

Leonard shakes his head, settling back against the seat. "Never mind." Sara, after a moment and a glance toward the front, tries to shift toward him in a way that doesn't attract the attention of the others. He glances at her, lips twitching, and does the same, until they're close enough to lean on each other again if (when) they doze off.

"Whatever." Ray mutters to himself as he traces a route on the map, then nods, putting it back down and starting the car. "You think we'll be there a few days? I mean, even now, Gotham has a lot of tech companies, and I could pick up some stuff. For a signal. And I'd like to…"

"No, Raymond." Leonard, Sara thinks, sounds exhausted—although that might just be because he's talking to Ray. He leans his head back, closing his eyes. "My kind...aren't particularly welcome in Gotham."

"Your kind?"

"Villains, Raymond."

Ray carefully puts on the turn signal, studying the traffic before pulling out onto the road heading northeast out of River City. "You're not a villain, you're a h…"

Leonard, without opening his eyes, holds up a finger and points at the other man. "Don't say it."

"…a legend."

"And I still remember what ol' Silvertop said when Hunter first fed us that line. Drive, Raymond."

Ray drives.

* * *

They make good time to Gotham, which isn't that far up the East Coast. Leonard, having napped in the backseat (with Sara snuggled into his shoulder), takes over driving for the last hour, squabbling (relatively) good-naturedly with Raymond, who has the map, over routes and traffic laws. Kendra and Sara snark at them (equally good-naturedly) from the back.

He keeps sneaking tiny glances at Sara in the rear-view mirror, still bemused by this whole…thing, and while he's pretty sure Kendra has noticed, she hasn't said anything. For his part, he has to keep reminding himself it wasn't a particularly intense dream—although he'll be honest, he'd never have stopped the dream.

He's kind of wishing he hadn't stopped the real-life version, actually.

Sara notices his most recent glance and grins at him, a spark in her eyes, and, yeah, that's not doing anything to stop that particular wish. Leonard has to drag his attention back to the road, negotiating traffic and unfamiliar terrain, dealing with all Raymond's opinions and his own wayward thoughts.

They enter Gotham proper by mid-afternoon, and Leonard can see the bones of the city he's only visited once in the scene before them. He has the same feeling too, the same eerie prickle on the back of his neck, the eerie sensation of being watched. He doesn't much like it.

The others, studying the city around them, don't seem to notice it. Raymond hasn't stopped talking, Kendra looks fascinated, and Sara…OK, Sara looks a little unnerved. Hmm. Well, at least it's not just him.

The biggest landmark around is still Wayne Tower, and he heads for it and the Old Gotham district. The others can play sightseers a little, anyway, and Kendra can keep Raymond out of trouble, probably. It's a lot safer than going with him.

But no sooner does he find a parking spot and turn to them for a quick conference does it become apparent that's not going to fly this time.

"I'm going with you." Raymond looks stubborn, pleading, and a bit pathetic all at the same time. It's a gift.

"No, you're not." Leonard glances at Sara, expecting some sort of support, or at least a request to accompany him herself—not that that's a very good idea, but at least he trusts her sense and ability to handle herself, even in the clothing society expects from a woman in this godforsaken day and age. Instead, she looks thoughtful, as does Kendra, and he starts to realize that he just might be in a bit of trouble.

"No," he says quickly, but it's more of a protest than anything he thinks is going to stick.

"Well, if you won't take me, or Kendra, along as backup…" Sara lifts an eyebrow at him. Kendra, glancing at her, grins a little evilly and gives him the exact same look, mirrored.

"Don't need backup," he tells them, annoyed that he sounds a little sullen. Raymond looks back and forth between them.

"Now, I could buy that yesterday, when you had to move so fast, to blend in," Sara tells him. "But out in what I presume is going to be a seedier side of a city like Gotham? You need _someone_ to watch your back." She looks a little disgruntled herself. "And as much as I'd like to do it…I'm afraid I'd just stick out more in this. And same for Kendra." She looks down at her rather sedate dress and low heels. "Shoulda bought a catsuit."

Because _that_ idea isn't distracting. Leonard shakes his head, as much to chase away the image (for now) as to deny the thought. "No offense, Raymond, but a…shiny hero type…like you, you're gonna stick out like a sore thumb. Plenty of people here with a score to settle with that kind. You'll draw 'em out of the woodwork."

Raymond frowns. "Thought you said villains aren't welcome here."

"They're not." Leonard rolls his eyes. Major hero wannabe, and he doesn't even know his own kind's history. " 'Bout the past 20 years or so, city's had itself a protector. Continues to _our_ time, at least, somehow. You know."

Kendra's eyes widen. "You mean…"

"Don't say it." He can't help a quick glance around. This place always has him paranoid. "So, yeah. Anyone out to break the law, you gotta be careful—especially if you have bigger plans."

Raymond nods solemnly. "Supervillains."

"I hate that word. But yes." Leonard snorts. "But that doesn't mean you don't get them here. You just get the ones who really think they got stuff to prove, and the ones that might be a little…out of balance, at times. Over the top."

Raymond snickers, grinning when Leonard looks at him.

"Uh huh. And you," the scientist says drily, "got yourself a cold gun, put on a parka and goggles, and called yourself Captain Cold."

Sara snorts. Kendra stifles a giggle. And Leonard's chin goes up as he glares at the other man.

"That was Ramon!"

"Whatever." Raymond waves a hand. "I do have some martial arts training, you know. Not like Sara, but I can fight. And I'll follow your lead. Keep my mouth shut." He breaks out the Palmer puppy eyes. "Please?"

He _could_ use backup, in this place. And while he'd prefer it to be Sara…

"OK."

"Seriously?" The other man beams. "Excellent! Do you think we could stop by Stagg Enterprises? Or maybe GothCorp…"

"Don't push it." He holds a hand up to break the flow of words. "Now. If I…we…are going to go acquire ID, which was the point of this whole thing, I need the pertinent information. As in, what names we're going to be going by. Kendra, you're the only one I think can't use any element of your real name…"

"Yeah, I know." She sighs. "Ray? If we're going to…"

He doesn't need to be party to this, this, relationship talk. Leonard gets out of the car with alacrity, moving to lean against the trunk and further consider his own pseudonym.

Sara follows suit, joining him, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. But after a moment, she nudges him, just a little, and he moves his hand to rest on hers, surprised at how much he relishes the contact.

"What name are you going with?" she asks.

He considers another moment. "Len D. Wynters. I've used it before. And let's be honest, I'll take almost any opportunity to drop 'Snart.'" He smirks a little at her laugh. "You?"

"Hmmm. I'll stick with Sara, and how about…" Her eyes grow distant. "Nyssen? Common European surname."

"Ah." He regards her. She's mentioned her lost love, with regret if not grief. And he gets regret. It's why he always uses "Daniel" for his nonexistent middle name. "Certainly."

"Well, it's one I'll remember." Sara smiles a little, sadly, nudges him again. "You OK?"

He glances around the city, which isn't that intimidating in the daylight, even if he's still uneasy. "Well enough. Why?"

Sara just gives him one of those looks through her lashes again, glancing down at their hands.

"Ah." He pauses, trying to figure out how to convey that he has no regrets, except maybe stopping things, although it'd seemed to be the right decision at the time. "I'm good."

"I'm guessing you're going to be a helluva lot better than 'good,'" she murmurs…then closes her eyes in mortification, cheeks actually going pink, to his fascination. "Damn. Sorry. I…"

The fact that she's thinking about it too is encouraging. And rather a turn-on. "Sara, it's not that I…" He pauses, tries to get his thoughts straight when they're running a bit wild again. He needs to be on his game here, in more ways than one. "There's so much going on…" Damn, that sounds like he doesn't want her enough. How does this woman make him so tongue-tied? "Fuck. I just don't want to screw this up. It's too important."

Sara's cheeks are still a little pink. It's adorable. He's never, ever going to tell her that. "You mean, getting home? Or…" She waves a hand between them. "…this."

Neither one of them, it seems, is quite sure how to put a name to "this."

"Both?" He fidgets a little. "You make it harder to…give up."

 _Yeah, Snart, because that's a horribly romantic thing to say._

But Sara's eyes widen, a little, and he knows she gets it. Gets what he means, gets just how important it is.

"Same," she says quietly, reaching out to wrap her fingers in the lapels of his suit coat. "Be careful."

The kiss is a gentle one, not out of place in public even for the time, and while he thinks they'd both like to heat it up a little, they don't. Sara lets go, Leonard takes a breath, and they smile at each other, smiles with only a hint of their usual brand of snark and self-defense.

A noise recalls them both to their surroundings at the same time, and they glance back at the car…to see both Kendra and Raymond staring back at them.

Kendra looks amused, and not really surprised at all. Raymond looks…stunned, open mouthed and wide eyed.

Peachy.

* * *

Ray Palmer will be the first person to admit that he's not always the best at reading people. Nor at picking up some of the subtler signs between them. He likes the subtleties of science better, always has. (Anna had had to ask him out, all those years ago, after he hadn't noticed any of her hints.)

But this…this is a little more dumbfounding than usual.

Sara Lance, cop's daughter, White Canary, ex of the Green Arrow.

Kissing Leonard Snart, master thief, Captain Cold, enemy of the Flash.

He, Ray decides, watching as Snart talks to Kendra and Sara, apparently making arrangements to meet them later, is _not_ going to be the one to tell Oliver. Or Laurel, for that matter.

After another moment or two, Snart turns away, pointedly ignoring him, and Sara follows him, joining the thief by the car to exchange a few more quiet words. Ray wants to watch, still marveling, but doesn't, turning to Kendra, who's giving him a fond and knowing smile.

"Don't stare," she says quietly, reaching out to adjust his scarf. The weather is warmer again, but he figures, you never know.

"I'm trying not to." He shakes his head. "Those two? Really?"

"After all that flirting and…" A flash of something impish in her beautiful brown eyes. "…the eye sex? Really, Ray? You're surprised?"

"Well, yeah." He thinks about it another minute. OK, sure, Sara and Snart had been spending a lot of time together on the ship, tended to back each other up, flirted a lot… but…

Damn. Yeah. He'd done it again.

Kendra's smile grows a little as she goes up on her toes to kiss him. "Be careful out there, OK? Gotham can be…interesting."

Ray puts his hands on her waist, catching another kiss. "You've lived here?"

"Hmmm. I think so." They both know she's not talking about this lifetime. "And I visited, when I was younger."

"What are you going to be doing?"

"Just playing tourist, I guess." Kendra shrugs, stepping back. "I think Sara wants to do a little shopping, although we don't have that much cash. It will be nice to stretch our legs a little."

Ray glances around Old Gotham, with its classic architecture, stone buildings that are about half as old as they were the last time he saw them. "Enjoy. There's a really neat observation deck up there…" He points to Wayne Tower. "…at least, I think it exists now. This section is a lot nicer than where I suspect we're going."

"I suspect you're right." Kendra shakes her head as Sara comes to join her. "Just…take care, Ray. I love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Kendra hasn't said a word, just winked at him as she and Sara turn toward some shops across the street. But Leonard figures there's no way he's getting off that easily. Serves him right for getting so distracted he'd forgotten about the others' presence, really.

He's right.

Raymond's obviously itching to say something, but he waits a few minutes at least. They watch the women leave, and then Leonard turns away, heading for where he'd seen a subway sign. Raymond falls into step besides him.

"So," the other man says after a moment.

Leonard walks a little faster.

Irritatingly, Raymond keeps pace.

"You and _Sara_?" he says, in a tone that's almost insulting, it's so disbelieving.

"Not _now_ , Raymond." There's a subway map posted. This isn't exactly the glory days of the system—far from it—but it should get them where they need to go. Leonard marks routes and stops in his memory, nodding to himself, then heads down the steps into the tunnels, looking for an attendant and tokens.

Raymond, somewhat to his surprise, does indeed shut up for the moment. He studies another map intently as Leonard trades cash for some subway tokens from a weary-looking attendant, then follows in silence as they move toward the platform in question.

Leonard's just starting to think that maybe, just maybe, the scientist will actually keep his mouth shut, as they stand with a scattering of others and wait for the subway. Raymond does look very thoughtful, but silent, exactly as Leonard prefers, so he leaves well enough alone.

It can't last.

The subway arrives in due time, and Leonard makes a beeline for a car near the rear, avoiding the crowds, Raymond trailing behind. Once they're on and start to move, though, the scientist glances at him, then opens his mouth.

Leonard holds up a hand.

Raymond closes his mouth.

"Raymond. We're going to…one of the seedier parts of Gotham. The seediest that's not actually in the East End." Leonard fixes him with a look. "Do not volunteer any information. Do not give anyone your name. And…" He considers a moment. "…you know what? Just don't talk."

Raymond gives him a wounded look. "Can I talk _now_?" he asks pointedly, after a moment.

Leonard shrugs.

Raymond takes it as permission. "Um. OK. So. Sara?"

Leonard, leaning back against the wall, rolls his eyes so hard they hurt.

"I just wanna say…" The scientist hesitates. "…well. Be good to her. If you're really a…a thing."

Leonard puts a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. "Is this the big brother talk?" He looks between his fingers, scowling. "Because I've done that myself, and not only is your form off, Sara will kick your ass when she finds out."

Raymond visibly swallows. "Not quite. Just…she's a friend of mine, OK? And I…knew her, saw her, when she was not that long out of…out of the pit. The Lazarus Pit."

Leonard lowers his hand, silent. The other man, encouraged, continues.

"She's been through a lot," he says quietly, putting out a hand to steady himself against the wall. "I know she can take care of herself. It's just…she deserves something where she doesn't have to, you know?"

* * *

Snart is silent, eyes distant. Ray, watching, wonders what's going through the other man's head. He's pretty sure the crook actually does care for Sara, in his own…pragmatic…way. But he'd killed Mick, without showing so much as a flicker of regret, and Ray just can't forget that. Would he do the same to them all, if it really came down to it?

Ray honestly doesn't think so. But the germ of cynicism that usually hides deep down inside…it wonders.

After a moment, though, the crook shakes his head. "I don't," he drawls, "think that's any of your business."

Ray shrugs. "Only insomuch as she's my friend. Friends look out for each other."

The other man stills, and Ray thinks about Mick again, just as he's pretty sure Snart is. He wants to ask…

He doesn't.

"Sara," Snart says after a moment, "is in no danger from me."

There's a finality to the words, and Ray realizes he's pressed all he can on that particular issue. So he nods. "Where are we going?"

Snart lets his eyes flick around the car, which has a few other people, all down at the other end and apparently minding their own business. Then he shrugs. "Place called The Stacked Deck. I know it was open at this time. Still was in 2015, and beyond, far as I know. But we should be able to find what we're looking for there, or at least get a lead on it."

"OK." Ray hesitates, wondering if he can press his luck. "I was serious about stopping by one of the tech companies. Gotham has some places that are really ahead of their time. It might be very useful, if I'm going to build a, a time beacon."

To his slight surprise, the other man doesn't immediately dismiss the idea. For a few long minutes, he looks thoughtful, gaze turned inward again. Then he shakes his head, but not in a way that Ray thinks is completely dismissive. "I meant what I said, about it not being a good idea to stay here long." He holds up a hand as Ray starts to speak again. "I don't think we'll be doing anything to attract any…attention…but still. Take a 'maybe' for now, Raymond. It's all you're going to get."

And with that, he'll have to be satisfied.

* * *

Sara knows they're taking it slow. She knows it's a good thing. She's got a pretty good idea why Leonard was so cautious despite clearly— _clearly_ —evident desire.

That's not going to stop her, though, from picking out some sleepwear sexier than what she currently has, just for the sheer fun of it. (And anticipation of seeing the look on Leonard's face.)

Kendra giggles when she sees the store Sara heads for as soon as the men are out of view, giving Sara a sly look as they enter. They both pause at all the pink and frills—not precisely either of their styles—but decide to continue anyway, waving away an attentive saleswoman in favor of looking on their own.

For the next little while, Sara thinks, it's fun to pretend she's just shopping with a friend. Some things are universal, no matter the time, and giggling at the more ridiculous garments and nodding knowingly at the ones that are perfect is one of those things. Kendra points out a nearly transparent nightdress in a lovely ice blue without comment, and Sara smiles as she studies it, imaging…well.

That's when Kendra chooses to ruin her mood.

"You two being careful?"

Sara pauses and gives her friend a look of horror. "You did _not_ just say that."

Kendra shrugs, running a gentle hand over the golden silk of a lovely robe. "It's the '50s, Sara," she says in a low tone. "You _don't_ want to get knocked up here."

"I don't want to get knocked up anywhere!" She checks herself, lowers her voice. "You've had the same birth control injections via Gideon that I have. And…" She pauses. "Do the guys get them too?"

Her friend nods. "Yes." She snickers a little. "Apparently Rip trying to give the five of them the Talk about how 'spreading your seed throughout time is a Bad Idea' was both the funniest and most mortifying thing Ray has ever seen."

The idea makes Sara snort with laughter. "I can imagine."

Kendra smiles, but then her expression turns serious again. "You haven't talked about this?"

"Kendra." Sara closes her eyes. Her face feels hot, which is ridiculous. "It was…a little abrupt. And nothing like _that_ has actually happened yet."

"Hmmm." Her friend sounds a little relieved. "Just remember that those shots only last so long."

"I know." Sara regards a mannequin wearing a garment that seems to be nothing more than row after row of ruffles. "But we still have months. Maybe we'll be long gone before that."

"Here's hoping."

* * *

The Stacked Deck looks pretty much exactly like it did in 2015: dark, slightly unkept, and entirely disreputable. Leonard, studying it, shakes his head, then fixes Raymond with another warning gaze (the other man makes a "lips zipped" gesture) and heads for the door.

Because of the early hour, there aren't many patrons inside and no music yet, which is precisely how Leonard wants it. The bartender gives them a flat, searching look, hands rather obviously underneath the bar, but nods and returns them to the countertop after a moment after Leonard meets the gaze with a similar one of his own.

Their kind recognize each other. Always have, always will.

Raymond is obviously trying to be a bit less…Raymond…than usual, but he's still looking around with more curiosity than is really healthy in a place like this. The bartender gives him a wary look as they approach the bar, but then switches his attention back to Leonard, putting a pair of glasses on the counter.

"And what can I get you two…gentlemen?"

There's no way he's going to be responsible for Raymond imbibing hard liquor in this situation. He requests two beers, then slides more cash than necessary across the counter. The other man notes it and makes it vanish, but doesn't respond quite yet, keeping the required amount of plausible deniability in the interaction.

They sip their beers in the nearly silent night club, the only sound the occasion clink of bottles and glasses, and the low murmur from the other patrons, who are collectively minding their own business. The bartender wipes down the bar, seemingly paying no attention to them, but eventually works his way back down to their end, giving Leonard an inquiring glance.

Time for business.

"I'm looking for," he says slowly, picking over the words, "someone in the business of…creative paperwork."

Raymond makes a tiny noise of amusement. The man glances at him, then considers that, slowly working at a mark on the bar that isn't going anywhere. Finally, he says "Temporary? Or need something with more…longevity?"

"The latter." Leonard gazes across the room, acting disinterested. All part of the game. "More air-tight, the better. Quicker the better."

"You can pay." It's not a question. By this point, the bartender knows perfectly well that this stranger knows the routine. He wouldn't be following the steps so well if he didn't. And things like that…they cost.

Leonard glances back, a quick moment of eye contact, a flash of sincerity. Of a sort.

The bartender nods again, still working at that mark on the bar. "Peabody."

"Where?"

The other man glances at Raymond, who looks beyond excited to be party to an actual criminal transaction, although he's remained blessedly silent. After a moment, Leonard adds his gaze to the mix, trying to convey the message.

The scientist gets the hint. "Um," he says quickly, standing. "Gotta go see a man about a horse. Where…?"

The bartender points the restrooms out. Leonard spares a moment to sigh, inwardly, about the dangers of Raymond unsupervised, but watches him leave. Then he transfers his gaze back to the bartender, who's just ensured that, if questioned, he can say he only gave the address to one man.

The man names a number and street that are fairly close by, if Leonard remembers correctly. He nods, slipping another bill (far too big for simply another drink) across the bar, getting another beer in return although he hasn't finished his first.

Then he hesitates.

Raymond's right that Gotham, right now, is ahead of the curve on the tech front. And although he still has the handgun he'd acquired for the heist, he's not fond of such all-or-nothing tactics. His cold gun had been…is…a much more elegant weapon. It'd set him apart.

He'd felt like a common crook again last night. He hadn't liked the feeling.

Gotham's underbelly, even or especially at this time, is known for its more…unique characters. People stand out. And everybody's got a…shtick.

"So," he says slowly, placing another bill on the bar, "I'm wondering. Do you know anyone who works in…ice?"

* * *

"It looks almost…peaceful," Kendra says quietly, looking out over the city in the late afternoon light, "from up here."

Sara, who's been studying an intriguing-looking clock tower not so far away, glances over at her. They'd decided to join a gaggle of tourists in an excursion to the public observation deck in Wayne Tower, but while most of that ilk were pointing at and taking photographs of the building's legendary gargoyles, they'd drifted over to a better vantage point of the city itself.

"There's a reason I like rooftops and towers," she says. "And it's not just the excellent vantage point. They're oddly peaceful."

"I know what you mean. It's even better when you can literally fly to them. I…I miss that." After another moment, Kendra sighs and turns away. "I wonder how the guys are doing."

Sara's lips twitch. "Well," she says, following her friend out to the deck's lobby, "you just said the city seems to be peaceful, and we couldn't see any obvious explosions or police helicopters…so, could be worse?"

Kendra chuckles. "Good point. Now…"

But at that moment, Sara sees a face that almost seems familiar, and the reddish hair and height don't hurt. In this time when she feels so often at sea, the familiarity is a welcome shock, and she takes a few steps forward without even meaning to, breaking into a trot as Kendra, puzzled, follows her.

"Excuse me," she calls. "Ma'am? Excuse me?"

But the redhead, who hadn't, apparently, come from the observation deck but another door to the side of the lobby area, doesn't respond. She continues walking together the elevators, pace sedate, but there's so many people around this area that Sara is suddenly worried about catching her.

"Hey!" she says, raising her voice a little more. "Excuse me! Kate?"

At that, the tall redhead stops, turning toward her with a puzzled frown.

"I'm sorry?" she asks politely as Sara comes to a stop in front of her. "Do I know you?"

Actually, she doesn't. Sara, disappointed, realizes that this is a different woman than the one she knows. Different eye color, slightly different shape to her face, much darker hair, nearly black. Well, of course it is. She'd met Kate Kane in 2014, more than 50 years in this woman's future, and only that moment of familiarity had overridden that logic.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I thought…I thought you were someone else."

"It's OK." The redhead studies her, then Kendra as the other woman catches up. "I was just here visiting…a friend. Here for the observation deck?"

"Yes," Sara returns, trying to sound more like a light-hearted tourist, wondering why this woman hasn't just dismissed them already. "Just passing through but wanted to see it."

"Hmm." The other woman's brow is furrowed, and Sara suddenly decides to extend her hand.

"Sara…Nyssen," she says. "Pleased to meet you."

The redhead takes her hand, and Sara knows she'd been correct. Because her hand isn't just soft or work-worn, like so many women's here and now. It's strong, and there's a particular pattern of callus on it that screams…

"You're a fighter." The redhead's blue eyes are wide, and she looks a little embarrassed at blurting the words out. "I'm sorry, I…"

"No," Sara tells her. "No, you're right. And so are you."

Kendra glances back and forth at both of them, but extends a hand too, trusting Sara's lead. "Kiera Pratt."

"I'm Kathy," the redhead says, looking at them like she's never seen anything quite like them before. Well, maybe she hasn't. "Kathy Kane."

Sara grins. "Of course you are." Kate's mother? The timeline doesn't seem to quite line up. Aunt? A relative of some sort, anyway, clearly, from the resemblance.

The other woman gives her a puzzled look, but she's clearly intrigued. "Who…trained you?"

Maybe not the best time or place to bring up the League of Assassins…or Ra's al Ghul. "Long story."

Kendra laughs a little. "Well. For me, in part," she says, pointing at Sara, "her!"

Kathy's eyes light up, then dim a little as she remembers they're just passing through. Or so Sara surmises. But then she smiles again.

"Can I buy you dinner?" she says eagerly. "Welcome you ladies to our fair Gotham?"

Sara and Kendra exchange a look.

"That," Sara says finally, "would be excellent."

* * *

The man named Osgood Peabody makes his home…or his lair, Leonard's not precisely sure…in a tiny third-floor walk-up only two short blocks from The Stacked Deck. Leonard taps on the door, then waits, making sure his hands are in clear view.

Raymond, who'd refused to stay below and wait (and it was probably just as well considering the trouble he could've gotten into) stands just behind and next to him. When he sees Leonard's gesture, he does the same.

After a moment, a slot in the front of the door opens, a pair of watery eyes of indeterminate color peering through. Their owner, however, doesn't say anything.

"Gotta job," Leonard tells them shortly. "Urgent. I can pay."

The eyes consider him.

"Please?" Raymond adds, grinning…although he loses the expression as soon as both the eyes and Leonard scowl his way.

Still, after another moment, the slot slides closed and there's the rattle of locks at the door, which opens slowly. The short, nondescript man on the other side studies them, then grunts, taking a step back. They follow.

The man…presumably Peabody…leads them through a short entryway, then stops in what is clearly an office, giving Leonard a flat and expectant look.

No point in messing around. He starts giving the rundown on what they need, from driver's licenses to birth certificates, a pragmatic listing of facts, and Peabody promptly sits down at a massive desk, taking notes in tiny, cramped and precise writing. Raymond stands there a bit awkwardly, then crosses to a bookshelf and starts inspecting titles.

After Leonard's finished, ending with a repeat of the stipulation "urgent," Peabody considers his notes, then nods and looking up, names a figure.

Adjusted for the time, it's quite a sizable amount, just as he'd known it would be. Professionals of this sort, who do good work quick, don't come cheap. And they don't haggle. Leonard ignores Raymond's noise of disbelief and nods in acceptance. "When?"

"Late tomorrow morning." The forger shrugs when Leonard frowns. "This amount of work cannot be done before then, not and be acceptable." He gives the taller man a stern look. "And I do _not_ do unacceptable work."

Leonard, shrugs, pulling out his wallet. "We'll see. A fourth now. The rest on delivery."

Peabody frowns a little, but it's a standard precaution. He accepts the money, telling them to return at 11 a.m., and ushers them out, muttering to himself.

The whole thing actually took a lot less time than it could have. Leonard studies the sky, just faintly pink, then glances at Raymond.

This is a bad idea. He's going to do it anyway.

"We're going to make a stop at GothCorp," he says, starting down the street. "C'mon."

After a moment of stunned silence, the other man follows him. "Really? Snart, that's … that's awesome! They were one of the tech leaders of this time! We'll almost certainly be able to find something we can use… Are we gonna break in? Can I help? Can I…"

"Walk, Raymond."

* * *

"So…you're what, Miss Nyssen? A crime fighter? In your city?"

Sara chuckles, glancing around the neat little semi-private lounge in the hotel restaurant Kathy Kane had taken them to. It's apparent the woman has some money—OK, more than some—and influence, based on how the staff are treating them, attentively and well.

And the food is fabulous.

"More or less," she says, taking another forkful of some sort of potatoes in a rich cream sauce. "It's a little more complicated than that. May I have another glass of that wine?"

"Of course." The other woman passes it, but then bites her lip, clearly wanting to ask more. "But…aren't there men who do that? Too?"

Sara thinks of Oliver's probable reaction to this conversation, smiling. "Yeah, we got a few of those."

"Some better than others," Kendra adds drily. She's been enjoying herself, Sara thinks. The staff hadn't batted an eyelash at her color, apparently a testimony to how well known Kathy was here. Any friend of hers was welcome.

Kendra holds up a hand, though, as Kathy goes to pour her another glass of wine too. "I'm done, thanks."

"Of course, Mrs. Pratt." The dark-haired woman puts the bottle down, then hesitates. "But…don't they…how do you get them to listen to you? To take you seriously?"

There's a plaintive tone to her words, and Sara feels a rush of sympathy and a little anger on behalf of this woman, so far ahead of her time in a city she just wants to help protect.

"Well," she says thoughtfully, "you can always kick their ass if they don't."

Kathy puts a hand to her mouth, eyes wide, and Sara recollects, suddenly, that they _are_ in 1958. The language and the sentiment both might have been…a little out there.

But she's smiling, after that initial moment of shock, eyes sparkling. "Does that help?"

"Well," Kendra adds, "It sure as hell doesn't hurt."

Kathy giggles. "Tell me more."

"We can do better than that." Sara glances at Kendra, who nods, grinning, guessing where this is going. "We can show you. Want some lessons?"

* * *

The R&D department of GothCorp is located in a large, low building on the company's Otisburg campus. It's already dark, and Leonard feels a few qualms as he studies the building, but he's not going to back down now. If only because he'd have to do it in front of Raymond.

The scientist has been muttering away to himself, talking about the possibilities of the tech he'd like to acquire, although Leonard's mostly been tuning him out. It's not particularly difficult to get in the gates, and the lock at the side door is child's play. If he hadn't wanted to get home so much, he'd be tempted to stay just because current security systems are so unimpressive.

Just not in Gotham.

Raymond wants to stop and look at the directory, but Leonard paces right past it, heading for a flight of stairs, and the other man eventually tags along.

"Where are we going?" he asks after a moment.

"Upstairs."

"Well, obviously." But Raymond stops at a door just a few feet down the hallway. "Ooh. Snart, I'm going look in here, OK?"

"Whatever, Raymond." Leonard proceeds down the hallway, lost in his own thoughts, then pauses outside the door at the end. There's a light on inside, as the bartender had predicted and, when he tests it, it's unlocked.

He waits another moment, getting his thoughts in order, then pushes it open.

"Mr. Fries," he drawls, sauntering into the room and stopping as the tall man within whirls, staring at him in startled shock. "I…have a proposition for you."

* * *

When Ray emerges from the lab he'd been investigating, grinning and carrying a bag slung over his shoulder, flush with the feeling of illicit acquisition (maybe he gets why Snart enjoys his business so much), he glances around, wondering where the other man had gone.

He doesn't wonder long, though. There's only one flicker of light in the hallway, coming from a door cracked open down at the end, so Ray heads toward it, shifting his burden, wondering what Snart is up to.

It's labeled "Cryogenics Labs."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he mutters, shoving the door open and peeking inside. His mouth drops open at the sight before him.

"What the hell?!"

The crook glances up from where he's writing something down on a table, across the way from a tall, bald man in a white lab coat, whose eyes widen at the second intruder of the night. They're surrounded by tanks of frosted blue liquid, some with ghostly shapes within. Ray squints. Is that…a woman?

"You brought someone else here?" the stranger asks Snart, his tone incredulous. The crook rolls his eyes and keeps writing.

"It's not like your little project is a massive secret," he mutters. "I've been in Gotham for less than four hours and _I_ found you. Now, do you want this information, or not?"

The man gives Ray another appalled look and turns back. "Yes! Now, what was it you requested in return?"

"You've developed a concentrated freezing solution. I want a sample."

"Sn…" Ray shuts his mouth on the name as the other man glares at him. "You kept talking about how we couldn't stay long and couldn't attract any…attention. And you're doing _this_? Seriously? What are you going to try, recreating the cold gun?"

The stranger looks back at him, clearly intrigued, and Snart starts to respond but, at that moment, there's a loud crash from elsewhere in the building. His head snaps up and the man in the lab coat makes a strangled noise, turning toward his tanks, then back.

"You fools!" he cries, his voice bordering on the hysterical. "You've led him here! He's found me!"

"Who?" Ray wonders aloud as Snart curses, glancing down at his notes before shaking his head and abandoning them.

"Time's up. We're getting out of here!"

"But who's _he_?"

"Run, Raymond!"

The man in the lab coat continues cursing, standing in the middle of his lab, shaking his fists in true supervillain form at something Ray can't see. Then, there's another crash, and the lights go out, leaving the room lit only by the eerie blue from the tanks. The scientist howls in anger, and a shadow looms in the corner.

Ray runs.

He follows Snart down the hallway, trying to ignore the noises coming from behind them. The stairwell they'd climbed before is dark, with the door hanging off its hinges, and there's the sound of another ruckus below. Snart pauses, but then passes it, running down the hallway, then turning down another hall. Ray follows, getting angrier with every footstep.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" he yelled. "You said we had to get out of here!"

"Not _now_ , Raymond!" Snart skids to a halt as he turns down another corridor and nearly runs into a dead end with nothing but a window. He curses, then tries to jimmy the window as Ray jumps at what seems to be the sound of pursuit.

"You told me we couldn't stop and look at any of the things I wanted to look at. Even when I wanted them for the beacon I want to build. But then you dragged us out here to some mad scientist's lair just because you wanted to find a way to recreate your damned gun!"

Snart's got the window open now. He leans out, sighs and then turns, jerking his thumb at the window. "Raymond," he grits out, "move."

"And now _I've_ got to be the one to jump out the window first?!"

"Move!"

The drop's a little far, but the surface they drop down to is relatively soft. Both fortunately and unfortunately…because it's the contents of a dumpster.

Ray struggles out of the container, making noises of disgust at both the texture and the smell. Snart, moving like an offended, wet cat, climbs out after, movements stiff and disgusted. Also like a cat, he lands on his feet, then starts running toward the fence, Ray on his heels.

"I'm not done yet!" Ray yells. "I'm mad at you!"

There's a side gate, and the lock barely stops Snart for a moment. They surge out into the park around the complex, making for the trees.

Once they're safely under cover, though, Snart slows to a trot, then a walk, finally stopping and turning to look at Ray.

"Raymond." The other man's voice is dry and disbelieving. "I'm a crook, a master jewel thief, a wanted man. I killed my own father, tormented your friend the Flash, and went on the Waverider because I wanted to steal things. And you're upset because I'm a _hypocrite_?"

Ray's chin goes up. "Well," he returns, voice indignant, " _yes_!"

Snart stares at him. And then he snorts, for all the world like he's trying not to laugh.

Ray's lips twitch.

Snart snorts, stifling a laugh again.

Ray scowls, a grin at the corners of the expression, the ridiculousness of the situation getting the better of him.

The next time, Snart doesn't manage to restrain the laugh. He turns away, trying to hide the sound and expression, but Ray sees it, and chortles himself, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes.

Finally, they both regain control, Snart trying desperately to act like the lapse never happens. Ray has no intention of letting that occur.

"I don't think I've ever heard you actually laugh before," he says, as the two men continue toward the sidewalk and then subway, still redolent of the dumpster, but thankfully in one piece and uncaptured.

"Well… don't tell anyone. I'll just deny it." Snart sighs. "Sorry. It was a bad idea. And I'll deny saying that, too."

"Eh. It's OK." Ray waits a beat, then grins again. "At least we didn't come away truly empty handed."

Snart glances at him, question clear in his gaze.

Raymond, triumphant, brandishes the bag still looped over his shoulder. "Found this in one of the labs. Channeled my inner crook. I can use it to make a…"

But Snart holds up a hand at the first few words of jargon. "English, Raymond."

"Says the man who was just rattling off technical terms like he had a PhD in cryogenics."

"….point."

* * *

Leonard had told Sara and Kendra to look for them every hour on the hour after 6 p.m., setting the base of Wayne Tower as the meeting point. As he and Raymond, limping and stinking, finally make it there well after that, he glances around hopefully, looking for the bright flag of Sara's hair. _Something_ needs to make this day better.

There she is, leaning against the brickwork at the front of the building, Kendra leaning next to her. Kendra sees them first, her smile growing, and she nudges Sara, pointing.

OK, maybe they're not looking their best. His formerly spotless black suit is now smeared with peanut butter from someone's discarded sandwich and other, more mysterious (and smelly) things. Raymond's navy one isn't much better. They look, to be frank, a wreck, and smell worse. (At least they'd had a subway car to themselves, and it's so late now that no one's looking closely.)

Kendra puts a hand over her nose as they approach. Sara's nose crinkles.

"Well," she drawls, "what the hell happened to you two?"

Raymond opens his mouth, then glances at Leonard. "There was an incident."

"An incident."

"Yes."

Sara's eyes are full of amusement. "And did you at least get the ID?"

"Picking it up in the morning." Leonard takes a step closer, cringing a little as she quite obviously leans away from him. "Sorry."

"It's OK." The women glance at each other. "Well," Kendra adds, smiling a little, "you boys will probably be glad to hear we already have two rooms at the Gotham Ritz, just a block from here."

Raymond blinks at her. "How…?"

"We made a friend," Sara adds, grinning. "And she footed the bill, in exchange for some…lessons."

"Lessons?" Leonard realizes he's sounding rather slow on the uptake and sighs. "OK. Fabulous. Shall we?"

"Yep." Sara, though, smirks a bit. "You know, though. I think maybe Kendra and I can share a room tonight. You boys share. Since you're already used to each other's stench."

Raymond opens his mouth, then closes it. He glances at Leonard, who sighs.

"Whatever," he says with resignation. "Lead on. And Raymond…?"

"What?"

"Dibs on the shower."


	6. The One and Only One for Me

They're on the road by noon the next day, and Leonard's stated his intention to make Nickel City before the end of it, despite the considerable drive. Sara, who'd switched up the rooms last night in part to avoid temptation and make sure they all got a decent night's sleep, can see the faint relaxation in his shoulders as they (now all duly documented, thanks to the mysterious forger) get past the city limits without incident.

Someday, maybe he'll tell her what happened on their little excursion. Even Ray isn't being forthcoming.

Kathy had eagerly reiterated how welcome they'd be to return anytime they wished—and maybe, she said tentatively, to team up? It's good to have that option tucked away, anyway, Sara thinks, looking out the window as the city traffic starts to lighten. But for now...it's best to stick together.

Ray decides to start giving them bits and pieces of the work of semi-fiction that is his resume here, which leads to a group brainstorming session on how best to get his foot in the door at the university despite his lack of current references or (real) credentials. Leonard had paid the forger extra for diplomas (all to universities on the West Coast), but the scientist can't stop obsessing about the lies he'll have to tell, something that apparently bothers him a lot more than it bothers the rest of them.

Leonard finally sighs, leaning his head back against the seat and briefly closing his eyes while waiting at a traffic light.

"Show that you know your stuff and they won't check too closely," he says. "I told you, place is trying to make a name for itself with more experimental stuff. If you can do that for them, they won't bother looking their gift horse in the mouth."

He turns his head to look at the other man after a moment. "Speak science to them, Raymond. It's your language. They'll love it."

Ray snorts as the light turns green and they start moving again. "Have you ever had a real job in your life?" he asks a little acerbically. "How do you know?"

Kendra reaches over the seat to poke him and Sara bristles protectively despite herself, but Len shrugs.

"Since I had a record from nearly the day it was possible to have one, thanks to my asshole dad, it would have been sort of hard to get a 'real job,' " he comments. "Worked under the table a few places. But let me remind you that you don't get to be anything more than a petty thief without knowing how to appear to be something you're not, Raymond."

"Nor an assassin," Sara tells the scientist drily, reaching out and flicking him in the ear, drawing an annoyed "ow!"

Ray deflates. "Sorry. I just...really hate lying. And I'm not good at it, either. I don't want to mess this up."

"You're not lying," Leonard points out after a moment, just as he starts to pull into a service station to put more gas in the car. "You're still every bit Ray Palmer, science geek, and you have every credential you're claiming and more. We just...fudged the dates and details a little."

Ray brightens, considering the other man. "That's true," he says. "And you know, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it."

* * *

They hit a late winter snowfall on their way across the state, slowing traffic to a crawl and making Leonard narrow his eyes and ban Ray from talking so he can concentrate. Eventually, it peters out, but the roads are still so bad that he pulls into a rest stop, where they repair to a restaurant and try to wait until the plows have cleared the worst of the mess away.

Sara stirs her coffee and watches Leonard, who's looking out the window with eyes narrowed. Something's occupying him, she thinks, and not just the weather or Ray's job aspirations.

He turns his head a few moments later and catches her gaze, the corner of his mouth ticking up just a tad. Sara leans over, just a little, and lowers her voice.

"You all right?" she asks.

After another moment, he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Yes, though I wouldn't mind if this..." He waves a hand at the window. "...was gone."

"Thought you liked ice and cold."

"Not on the roads, I don't."

They smirk at each other a moment, then Leonard sighs, turning his head to glance at Kendra and Ray, who are deep in some sort of conversation and not paying attention to them, for once.

Sara, taking a bite of bagel, waits.

"Thinking about what Raymond said. Earlier," he says finally.

"About jobs?" Sara feels the protectiveness surge again. Which is a little ridiculous, really. Still, she turns her head to glare at Ray, who doesn't notice.

Len waves his hand again, this time in a "never mind" sort of gesture. Despite that, though, he hesitates, looking out the window.

Sara lets him consider his words, taking another drink of coffee, knowing that if it's something he's this uncertain about, he'll talk in his own good time or not at all. Kendra and Ray have gotten up to go peruse the dessert case, so they're alone for the moment, and the snow is still falling heavily outside.

"Just thinking that this 'Len Wynters' has never been arrested," he says finally, still not quite meeting her eyes. "Doesn't have a record. Doesn't have anyone judging him for his past. Could probably do pretty much whatever he wanted to do."

 _Oh_.

Sara doesn't breathe for a moment. This is…new.

She's not sure what to say in response. A quip about turning over a new leaf seems too flippant. Any sort of expression of surprise seems too…insincere, maybe?

"That's true," she says after a few seconds. "He doesn't. _You_ don't. So...what do you want to do?"

There's an odd flicker in his eyes as Len looks at her.

"Been a long time since I had the option," he says. "I don't know."

And then Ray and Kendra are back, saying something to do with pie, and the moment's over.

* * *

Leonard's not sure where the impulse to tell Sara that came from. Not sure where the realization itself came from, actually.

Actually, that's not entirely true. Raymond's words had made him consider his past, a little. The path he'd taken, to get where he was. He hadn't precisely dreamed of being a crook as a kid, even a world-class jewel thief, which he knows, without humility, that he is. But there'd been all those jobs with his dad, and then juvie, the judgmental eyes at school, the fights, the suspensions...and then Mick, the only one who hadn't looked at him as something already broken, who relied on him even then to be the planner...

He's not going to think about Mick. He can't.

But he'd decided long ago that if people wouldn't let him be anything other than a crook, he was going to be the best damned crook he could be. Far, far better than his father, far better than...anyone. The cold gun had set him apart even more, but he'd looked in the eyes of where that path led, back in Gotham, and it's not a road he's sure he wants to walk, not anymore.

It's surreal, to think it could be different.

The radio in the restaurant is reporting that the local DOT plow detail is now out in force, and he wants to get back on the road. But first, there's something he needs to get sorted.

"We're about four hours out from Nickel City," he comments during a lull in the others' conversation. "At least, in normal weather. I'm sure it'll be a little longer in this crap."

Kendra makes a face. "Probably right," she notes, looking up from some notes she's jotting on a napkin. "I'd nearly forgotten how much I hate this sort of stuff. Going to have to get used to it again."

Leonard tips his head toward her in acknowledgement but doesn't wait long enough to let the topic wander off again.

"Once we get there," he says, "Nickel City. I won't be...acquiring any more money. Not in the usual fashion for me, anyway." He takes a sip of his own coffee, considering the dark liquid for a moment, and then looking back up. "You don't foul your own waters, not if you're going to be staying there long term. And if it's going to be home base for a while, none of us need anything...untoward...to lead back to us."

And a moment, Raymond nods.

"I get it," he says. "But...what do we have left? Until we find a way to start getting money by, uh, legal means?"

Len shrugs. "Enough. I think. But the documentation, it took a good chunk of change, as expected." He studies his coffee again. "We need to conserve money."

A moment of silence, and then Sara sighs, leaning back against the booth. "We're all going to have to be crammed in the same room tonight, aren't we?" she asks with resignation.

He points at her. "Bingo."

Kendra sighs too, but she seems to be hiding a smile as she eyes them. Leonard, who has a pretty good idea why, gives her a wary look, but the former barista apparently decides to let them off the hook. Mostly.

"I just hope neither of you snore," she says instead, with just a slight smirk.

Len, relieved, gives her a lofty look. "Of course not."

"Mmmhmm."

"We don't," Raymond offers. "Well, Kendra doesn't. I don't. Um. Do I?" he asks her. "Sara? Does Snart?"

It seems, Leonard decides, rising with alacrity, like a good time to go start cleaning off the car.

The ripple of Kendra's laughter follows him out the door.

* * *

They get into Nickel City so late that Leonard pulls into the first decent-looking motel he sees on the city's outskirts, dispatching Raymond to get them a room. He's exhausted, frankly, but so are the others, so he allowed his slightly control-oriented nature to keep the wheel as long as possible.

The room is small but clean; the two double beds are going to be...well. Len drops some of their bags into a chair and sighs. Then, he pulls off his boots and shrugs off his jacket, collapsing onto one of the beds and throwing an arm over his eyes.

He doesn't want to talk about sleeping arrangements. Hopefully, everyone else will get the hint.

He can dimly hear the others coming in, putting down bags, talking a little. No one bothers him, though, and it's not very long before he can tell someone's turned off the lights, although he can still hear Ray and Kendra talking in low voices from the general direction of the bathroom.

After another moment, he can feel someone settle onto the other side of the bed, then stretch out next to him. It's Sara, of course. Anyone else would have set off his internal alarms within a few feet.

"You do realize that you could get a little more comfortable than _that_?" she asks, her voice a low hum of amusement in his ear.

He snorts, then answers shortly, voice just as low if not lower, for her ears only. "No I can't."

"Come on. It's not like the pajamas show anything."

He doesn't dignify that with a response.

"Really. I mean, I've _looked_."

That actually gets a snort of laughter. Leonard opens one eye and considers her. Sara's lying next to him, close but not touching, blue eyes fixed on his and blond hair tousled about her face. She's smiling, a little, and he fights back the urge to lean over and kiss her. Raymond and Kendra might be perfectly aware they've been up to that sort of thing, but Leonard doesn't particularly want to put on a show for them.

"I'm fine," he tells her. "Really."

She gives him a skeptical look, but shrugs, then squirms a little, tucking an elbow under her head and trying to get comfortable. She can't help but touch him, even when clearly trying to keep to one side of the bed, and after a moment, she looks back at him, a question in her eyes.

"There's not enough room here for me not to be a little...familiar," she says quietly. "You OK with that?"

Of course, they've been a lot closer than that, happily so, but it's different, for him, with others in the room—even with casual contact. He appreciates how well she realizes that.

"I kind of have to be." But that doesn't seem fair, after all his quirks that she's so patiently put up with, and he adds, "It's fine. Long as it's you."

"Of course it's me." Sara leans her forehead against his shoulder, and he can hear her smile. "I'm not sharing."

* * *

Of course, they wind up tumbled together anyway.

Sara's not really surprised when she wakes half on top of Len, his arms around her and his breath stirring her hair, their legs tangled and the covers pulled over both of them together.

She starts to pull away, but his arms tighten around her and he mutters something in his sleep, brow furrowed. Sara subsides, putting her head back on his chest and relaxing. His shirt's come undone, just a few buttons worth, but enough for her to reach up and gently trace patterns on his bare chest with a careful hand.

She doesn't want to lose this.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she's watching his face as his eyes open slowly, the blue of his eyes startling even in the tiny amount of light coming from the small space between the room's curtains. He blinks, and she half expects him to pull away, but he doesn't. Instead, they just lie there and watch each other silently, her hand still resting on his bare chest, one of his hands tracing slowly up and down her back.

Eventually, Ray (who does not, in fact, snore) makes a muffled noise from the other side of the room, and they reluctantly, slowly, move away from each other. After another moment, Leonard sits up, swinging his feet over the side of the bed, rising and padding toward the bathroom.

Sara sighs. Resting her palm against the warm spot on the sheets where he'd been, she wonders what this next step in the whole "adventure" is going to hold for them...and how long they can keep this holding pattern up.

* * *

Leonard tries not to let himself wonder the same thing.

Once he's moving, though, he needs to keep moving. He obtains a newspaper from the motel office, removing the classified ads while the others are getting ready, then sitting down with the apartment section and a pencil.

The prices are a bit better than he'd feared, but there are fewer then he'd hoped, and some of those have...stipulations...that simply won't work for their group. However, it's only a few, and at this point in the semester, landlords with apartments up for grabs will know they need to take what they can get.

He has three entries circled by the time the others converge, and one of which seems to hit every note they'll want: two bedrooms, already furnished, available immediately, close to the university's north campus, relatively cheap by the day's standards. The words "Responsible adults only" make him smirk, but, well…he supposes they can at least fake it.

That's probably why it's not rented at this time, actually. Hmm. Might be better if he wasn't presenting himself as a renter, given that he and Sara aren't posing as married and don't have any documentation with which to show otherwise.

"Think you can pretend to be Boy Scout's sister?" he asks Sara suddenly, just after she sits down next to him. She blinks, then gives him a wary look before turning to eye Raymond, who's paused while pulling out a chair and looks a bit like a deer in headlights.

"Sure," she says suspiciously, looking back at him. "But we don't really look alike…"

"Neither do Lisa and I." And…Lisa's on the list of subjects he's desperately trying not to think about. "Gotta good candidate here, but…" He pauses, tries to choose his words carefully, feeling Sara's eyes upon him. "Raymond and Kendra, as a 'married' couple should be OK for a certain sort of conservative landlord—in other words, most anyone in this day and age. If your widowed sister's staying with you to start over, maybe take some classes, that could be OK. But…"

"The sister's boyfriend, not so much?" Kendra says drily, drawing an amused noise from Sara while Leonard refuses to look at either one of them.

Boyfriend, he thinks, sounds so…juvenile. But "lover" doesn't quite apply yet.

Raymond, though, laughs. "You could be Kendra's brother," he comments, nodding. "Think you could do that?"

Raymond…might be more perceptive than Leonard often gives him credit for. Leonard eyes him, then glances at Kendra, who looks briefly surprised, but nods.

"Only problem is, you got birth certificates for us, right?" she asks him.

"Yeah, but the landlord shouldn't need or want those."

"And there's also the issue that there's still only two bedrooms," Sara adds, smirking. "That's a lot of family togetherness."

Kendra snickers, and Leonard gives her a look that he suspects actually _is_ rather fraternal.

"Well, let's keep it in mind," he says with a sigh. "At least, it'd give me an excuse for hanging around a lot."

* * *

Ray calls the number in the classified ad, using his most responsible "trust me, I'm an Eagle Scout" voice and charming the older woman who answers the phone. She agrees to show them the apartment, which is still available, later that afternoon.

Then he drags out his portable typewriter and goes back to work on the resume. He and Leonard start bantering about it, and the best way to fake references, and Sara listens in amusement for a while before catching Kendra's eye and nodding toward the door.

The other woman stops pausing in offering input (and mediating) and shrugs, grabbing her coat.

There's a lot of snow about, but the day is milder and Sara drags in a deep breath of crisp, fresh air. It's not like she particularly minds any of the company in that room, but it's just a little too...close.

"How are you?" she asks Kendra, who's stooped to pick up a handful of snow and is idly molding it into a snowball.

The former barista lifts an eyebrow. "Fine. Well...a little tired, maybe. Ray sprawls in his sleep." She aims and throws the snowball at a nearby sign, frowning as she misses, and bends to scoop up another handful. "I don't know why it kept waking me up—I mean, the Waverider beds are smaller—but I was a little restless." She packs the snow together, eyeing Sara. "You and Snart looked pretty cozy."

Sara shakes her head, smiling, but doesn't take the bait. She grabs her own handful of snow, though, nodding at the perfect packing consistency, and shrugs.

"I was just thinking," she comments, "that you and Ray were just pretty much married by default. Awfully quick in...whatever you've got going."

Kendra nods thoughtfully, acknowledging the words. She connects with her second snowball and dusts off her gloves with satisfaction as Sara does the same.

"It's OK," she says. "We did talk it over, and we agreed. It makes sense, for here and now, and..." Her eyes grow distant a moment. "Sara, to be honest, at least I had a choice in the matter. With Carter, Khufu, that whole...soulmate...thing, I never really felt like I did. At least, not this time around" She holds up a hand as Sara narrows her eyes. "No, he didn't...push me, not _that_ way. But he did make it clear he thought I didn't have much of a choice, that'd I'd always be Chay-Ara, always wind up with him in the end."

Sara growls anyway. "I know he...I know you two were connected," she says, a strange mix of apology and irritation in her tone. "But I didn't really...well..."

"Like him that much?" Kendra shakes her head, smiling. "It's OK. A secret?" She leans closer. "Neither did I, a lot of the time. I think it would have gotten better, if he'd relaxed a little more about the whole thing, once we'd gotten to know each other. But we never got the chance"

Sara smiles back, a little sadly, a little reluctantly. "Seems that, well, 'like' should at least be the basis for a relationship, though" she says quietly. "I mean, it's not that I'm really an expert in the matter. But..."

"Yeah." Kendra's eyes are distant again, but then she shrugs and smirks at Sara, who, holding up her hands in mock self-defense, has a pretty good idea what's coming.

"So...you _like_ Snart?" her friend asks playfully. "Like that? I mean, I can tell you're attracted to each other...as if the kiss, the lingerie, and the snuggling didn't already prove it. But I thought you two couldn't stand each other at first."

"What is this, middle school?" Sara scoops up a handful of snow and tosses it at her. "Yes, I like him. He grew on me."

"Like mold?" But Kendra's voice is teasing, and Sara can tell she's listening.

"Smart ass," she retorts. "There's a good man under the snark..."

"...and the whole 'criminal' thing..."

"I was an assassin, remember? That's not precisely a reason to ignore..." She considers her words. "...chemistry."

Kendra giggles a little. "Combustion, you mean?" she asks archly.

By the time they make it back inside, Kendra has snow in her hair and Sara's gloves are soaked. But they're both grinning.

* * *

As soon as they pull up in front of the apartment, Leonard know he's made a good call. The older woman standing there looks prim and proper, back ruler-straight, hands folded in front of herself as she stands on the stoop. But she also looks not unpleasant, and rather hopeful. Maybe this will work.

The apartment is over a bookstore, something that makes Raymond squeak in happiness. Mrs. Levy, as she introduces herself, owns the building and runs the store on a limited basis. ("Started by Mr. Levy, God rest his soul, and I can't just sell it.") She tells Raymond immediately that she's had issues with unruly students renting in the past, and the scientist immediately goes into full Boy Scout mode, earnestly explaining that he's doing some research "and looking into a position" at the university.

The landlord studies Ray and Kendra a long moment, but apparently is unfazed by Kendra's skin color, although she does noticeably look for wedding rings. Sara, introduced as Ray's sister, who may be taking some classes while she's staying with them, tries hard to look younger, demure and responsible. Leonard, bending over Mrs. Levy's hand and oozing charm, chooses to keep it simple and say that he's a friend who's helping them in their potential move.

She bites. They're (technically) adults and they look responsible enough, and Ray is in full "yes, ma'am, no, ma'am, let me get the door for you, ma'am" mode, which doesn't hurt. Mrs. Levy agrees to rent them the apartment on a limited basis at first, with the lease expanded should Raymond acquire a position at the university. They pay her in cash.

And so, just like that, they have some form of stability.

* * *

Sara's sick of it very quickly.

The apartment's fine, really, well-kept if a bit old-fashioned. But the second "bedroom" might as well be a closet. She has a small, narrow bed, barely the size of what she thinks of as a twin, a miniscule bookshelf, and a tiny dresser. She has to close the room's door to open any of the drawers. Or make the bed. Or do much of anything besides lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

She is, obviously, sleeping alone.

Len, who's technically not even supposed to be there, is sleeping on the couch, back in all his layers. She'd offered him the room despite the size of the bed, but he'd declined. And there's no way in hell for the two of them in there. Not even if they were up to the sorts of activities she's pretty sure they're both still considering.

Not that they have any privacy for them.

Ray and Kendra have the "master" bedroom, which isn't huge, but at least has room for the two of them and a decent sized bed. Ray's going to the university library every day, reading up on the head of the physics department and all his work, and Leonard's been tagging along. Sara had gone once, a few days after they'd settled in, but although there were a few female students about, they were far outnumbered by the males—and after the third snide whispered comment about a "M.R.S. degree," she decided to leave before she broke someone's arm. (And Leonard, from the look on his face, helped.)

She'd gone instead to the bookstore, where the rather sweet Mrs. Levy ("Please, call me Janet, dear") had twigged to her discontent and hesitantly offered her a job. ("I know how long the days can be, after you've…lost someone. Keeping busy is a good thing.") Just a few hours a week, but it was something to do outside the apartment.

Which is a good thing. Even after only a week, the days are long. She hangs out with Kendra, training in the evening hours when there's no one in the bookstore to disturb, and they talk quite a bit. Leonard had told Ray and Kendra what he'd already told her about time drift, and they've all agreed to watch out for each other.

While Kendra says wistfully that it might be nice to fit in a little more, none of them want to lose themselves in the '50s, and it's an easy agreement to make.

Thought it might be harder to keep.

* * *

"What are you reading?"

Leonard flicks a glance toward Raymond, who's leaning across the library table toward him and peering at his book. With an inward sigh, and an outward scowl, he tips it shut, pulling it across the table toward him and sliding it into his bag.

Raymond, however, is undeterred, grinning at him. It's possible, Leonard thinks, that he's losing his touch as far as science-nerd intimidation goes. He narrows his eyes, but the other man is unperturbed, looking over the papers and books in front of him before nodding to himself in satisfaction.

"Tomorrow's the day," he announces quietly. "I'm going to go give the department head my resume, tell him about my work…well, sort of…convince him what a good addition I'd make. It's time."

"I've been telling you that for three days now," Len points out.

"Well, now I agree." He gives Len an uncertain glance. "Are you still going to…"

They're in a quiet and untenanted part of the big library, and no one else is around. "…pose as a 'proactive' former employer and call him on your behalf? Yup." He sits back, waving a hand. "Just make sure I have the appropriate sort of science babble ready to go. I'm good at improvising."

Raymond gives him a look that's oddly measuring, but nods. "You planning to stick around?"

Leonard frowns at him. "The library?" He's definitely been spending a lot of time there, but given the size of the apartment, well…he thinks it's justified.

Although he misses Sara. And he'd rather like to hope she misses him.

But the other man shakes his head. "Nickel City." He continues when Len doesn't respond. "If…after we're settled in a little more. You can't be…"

"Said I would." He knows his voice is terse, but after everything, you'd think Raymond would trust him. Hasn't he proved that he's not going to just abandon them?

Sometimes, he thinks distantly, he thinks his life has been an endless series of trying to prove himself to people who think he's unreliable, incompetent, or untrustworthy. He's weary to death of it.

"Yeah, but what are you going to _do_?" Raymond's voice isn't angry or bitter, though. It's sympathetic, and Leonard's not sure what to do with that. "Hopefully, I'll have this, and that will keep us afloat. And I'm working on the beacon, but with the transponder I…acquired…in Gotham, it's taking a little more time. Ha. Time." He grins at the unintentional pun, and Len rolls his eyes.

"But you've got to be bored. And I…I have Kendra." He gives Leonard the Palmer puppy eyes, and the other man leans back in his chair, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation is taking. "You and Sara don't have any privacy at all, and I'm sorry for that."

Leonard opens his mouth, then closes it, giving Raymond a flat look. Arguing seems…disingenuous, given that the other man had seen them kissing, but he's not willing to talk about this, either.

Even if Raymond is right. _Especially_ if Raymond is right.

After a few more moments of silence, the scientist shrugs, reaching out to start gathering his books together. "All I'm saying is, if this job thing works out and you two want to…to go find your own place here, to _make_ your own place, well, we'd understand. Just gotta stay in touch for when the ship gets back."

And with that, the conversation's over.

* * *

Listening to Leonard channel Stein at full pomposity level—because that's clearly who he's imitating—while speaking on the phone with the Nickel University physics chair is one of the funnier things Sara's seen in the past week.

She sits on the couch and listens, lips sealed shut over the laughter, as he expounds on Ray's research (occasionally checking his crib notes on that topic), pontificates on his intelligence and reliability and ingenuity, and generally sings the other man's praises. He'd said he was banning Ray from the apartment while he made this call because he didn't trust the other man to keep from giggling in the background, but Sara's pretty sure he just doesn't want Ray to hear the accolades, which do seem to have a ring of sincerity.

Sara waits until he hangs up, then applauds, smirking as he gives her a weary look and collapses onto the couch next to her. "A masterful performance," she says, nudging his shoulder. "You think the man bought it?"

Len consider, tilting his head back to rest on the seat, staring at the ceiling. "I think…that he's intrigued. Showed no sign of believing I wasn't who I said I was, and Raymond apparently made a good impression yesterday." He moves his head to look at her. "I think it's a good bet."

"That's a lot, coming from you." She moves a little closer, up against his side, and he puts an arm around her, both sighing at the contact. Sara knows she'd gotten used to it, missed it since they've been here, but it's good to sense that he does, too.

It occurs to her, as they regard each other, that there's no one else in the apartment, right now. Ray had trailed after Kendra (who's been occupying herself in part by cooking a lot more, rediscovering it as a hobby, writing down recipes, and murmuring to herself about baked goods, Jitters, and supply and demand) to the grocery store. Even the bookstore down below is closed.

She sees Len's eyes darken as he apparently registers the same thing. He licks his lips, slowly, deliberately, then leans toward her even as she's leaning toward him.

Sara swears she sees sparks as their lips meet, exploding behind her closed eyes, and she reaches for him abruptly, pulling him down onto her on the couch, running her hands down his back, nails scratching the smooth fabric of his suit coat before she decides that it needs to go _now_ and starts working to get it off his shoulders.

Len growls, actually growls, a sound that sends those sparks from her eyes to…other locales…and pulls back just enough to shrug the coat off, throwing it to land somewhere nearby in an uncharacteristic fit of untidiness. Then he leans back down and kisses her harder, hands traveling purposefully up under her blouse even as she yanks his shirt tail out of his pants and puts her hands there instead.

There's no real privacy and they both know that. Moving to Ray and Kendra's room would just be weird, Sara's bed would take some real contortions just to hold them both, let alone support other activities. The door to the apartment doesn't lead directly to the living room, thank god, but it's not like it's a large space at any rate.

But it'd take stronger people than them to resist this temptation.

As it is, they pretty much just manage to get all hot and bothered before they somehow hear Ray and Kendra on the stairs. Sara, who's been working hard to leave a truly impressive red mark low on Len's neck, pulls back with a gasp, removing her hands from where they've been wandering. Leonard himself shakes his head as if waking up, then pulls away too, stumbling to his feet and giving her a rather apologetic (if still heated) look before grabbing his discarded jacket and escaping to the bathroom.

It's only fair, as at least she has a place of her own to go. Sara escapes to her own room, leaning her forehead against the wall and smiling as she hears the start of running water even as Kendra and Ray come through the door.

She envies him the cold shower, though, she decides, buttoning her blouse and trying to slow her breathing even as she hears Kendra call her name in a questioning tone. She just wishes she was in there with him.

And, yeah, that thought doesn't really help much.

* * *

And so they continue.

The physics chair clearly is intrigued by Ray, his ideas and his work, but there's also not really an obvious position for him. Leonard continues to assert that the man will find something, though, and Ray keeps meeting with him, their conversations getting increasingly in-depth as Ray carefully tries to dangle bits of advance scientific knowledge out there without messing up the timeline.

They have a few more weeks until their limited apartment lease is up, but money is otherwise getting a bit tight. Sara's few hours a week at the bookstore help, and Kendra's started experimenting with making baked goods, shopping around homemade pies and other goodies to restaurants, coffee shops and other locations without an on-staff baker in the area. That's starting to bring money trickling in, a little, and Kendra seems pleased with it, tinkering with her recipes and trying new things.

Sara watches a little wistfully, glad her friend's found an occupation of sort, but while she's a decent basic cook, baking is not her thing. She still remembers the great Chocolate Chip Disaster of 2005.

Which makes her think of Laurel.

She doesn't want to think of Laurel.

Leonard keeps vanishing, many times to the library, and Sara even goes with him a time or two, exerting what she considers great and admirable restraint around the 1958 versions of the frat boys she remembers from college. She's never been a great reader, but it's something to do, and though Leonard seems to have _ideas_ about the relative sanctity of libraries (more than he seems to have about anything else of the sort, actually), there are also many quiet, oft-deserted corners where a few kisses and idle touches will go unnoticed.

But other times, increasingly, she's not sure where he goes.

It starts a few hours at a time, and since they've all become accustomed to Leonard's tendency to ramble around cities a bit, getting a feel for every new location, that's not so noticeable. But then he's increasingly gone for a day at a time, leaving early and getting back late enough to miss dinner, and he ignores Ray when the other man asks him what's going on.

Sara thinks that if she asked, she might actually get an answer. But she's not sure she wants it.

She's…making do.

She's training with Kendra and working at the bookstore, where Mrs. Levy has also managed to draw both of them into a women's book discussion group. They take great glee in making the books and the talk just a little more feminist, just a little at a time, and the group—a few college students, a few young housewives, even a nursing instructor from the university—takes to it well, sometimes giggling, sometimes debating. And…it's good.

Still, she doesn't really have a firm place here, and as she sees Leonard start slipping away, she wonders.

He's been her anchor, not because of anything stupid like needing a man in her life, but because he gets her, better than Kendra, better than Ray. If he leaves, can she muddle on like this, bored out of her mind on a regular basis, actively not wanting to fit in, the constant third wheel?

She's not sure. But her options are limited.

Four weeks after they settle in Nickel City, Sara goes out for her own ramble around the neighborhood. There's the first beginnings of possible spring in the air, though she knows perfectly well that around here, it might not last long. Still, it's warm enough to walk without being so bundled up she can barely move and that's sort of nice.

It's not the type of area where she's likely to catcalled or accosted, but as she walks along semi-lost in thought, she almost wishes someone would try something, just so she can feel like herself again. A dangerous thought, really, as the bloodlust, banked due to sheer lack of opportunity, is still there, under the surface. But she's tired of playing nice, tired of keeping so much of herself pent in, and tired of wondering what's next.

The League is out there. She knows it. She can't stop knowing it.

Eventually she heads back to the apartment, steps dragging as she climbs the stairs. Leonard, as far as she knows, is still out on one of his mystery errands. Ray's at the university and Kendra's meeting with a potential customer at a coffee shop nearby, so it's quiet and still. Just what she doesn't need.

Sara pushes the door to her room open with a sigh...and stops, dead in her tracks, at the sight before her.

Leonard's sprawled out on the tiny bed, head propped up on a fist, reading one of the few books she's collected. His legs, hanging off the edge, are crossed at the ankle, and she's got a damned fine view of his ass in those black slacks he favors here. And it's a damned fine ass. But she already knows that.

She's smiling again. Damn, it's good to see him.

"You don't fit," she tells him with amusement, moving out of the doorway and glancing down to where his feet hang over the edge.

"Not much," he says agreeably, rolling over and propping himself up on his elbows to regard her. "But I thought I'd visit, since the lovebirds are out." A look through his lashes. "And we're without chaperones for once."

Sara's lips twitch, and she sits down on the edge of the bed, then stretches herself out alongside him. There's really not room, but Leonard shifts back so she's not falling off the edge, and they're rather nicely pressed up against each other.

"Makes me feel like a teenager again," she says in a low tone, reaching up to trace the edge of his jaw, "sneaking boys into my room."

Leonard smirks. "And how would your dad have reacted if he found me there?" he drawls, moving a hand to her waist. "I can imagine."

"Back when I was a teenager, and you double my age? Len, they never would have found the body." She smirks back as he chuckles. "Now...well. He's gotten used to enough other things that I like to think we'd just get the patented dad resigned expression." She considers. "I think."

Len looks skeptical and Sara shakes her head, amused, and changes the subject.

"You've been gone a lot lately, not that I blame you," she says, eyeing him. "Everything OK?"

"Hmmmmmm."

In other words, he's not going to tell her yet. And she still doesn't want to ask. She sighs, not hiding it, and feels his hand tighten a little at her waist.

But all he says is: "You're OK?"

"More or less." Then, greatly daring: "I miss you."

Impossible not to hear his intake of breath at the words. Then: "I miss you too."

He bends down to kiss her, and Sara tilts her head up to kiss him, there on that too-small bed, closing her eyes, closing the world out…

And then the front door bangs open, the clatter of footprints echoing, Ray's excited voice rising in words she can't quite make out.

Leonard jerks his head back so fast he bangs his head on the headboard of the bed and then starts cursing under his breath. Sara claps a hand over her mouth to stifle both sympathy and laughter, feeling more like a misbehaving teenager than ever.

Then they both realize what Ray is shouting:

"I got a job!"

* * *

Raymond's been officially hired as a junior physics professor at the university, where the reputation of the department has been drawing more and more students. He'll be teaching basics to start and serving as the department chair's research assistant—which he admits, cynically for Raymond, means that the man will be claiming credit for any of his work. He seems OK with that, though, chattering happily about the good he can do "interesting young minds in the wonders of physics," and other such Raymond-esque sentiments.

Kendra's happy, too, because the owner of three local coffee shops has agreed to sell her pies and some cakes, too, at his shops. He'll undoubtedly mark up the prices a good deal, but she's getting a good enough price for them to start.

"Of course," she says, also a bit cynically, "he wouldn't just hire…someone like me…to simply work there. But I'd rather bake here anyway."

The Pratts—as their marriage certificate calls them—are beaming at each other so happily that Leonard almost feels guilty that he feels obliged to clear his throat and potentially bring them down to earth.

"Still working on that beacon?" he asks Raymond, trying to keep his tone mild. He's the one, after all, who encouraged the other man to do this, to start laying groundwork to be here long term. But that was the worst-case scenario. He's pretty sure they'd all rather go back to the Waverider and eventually their own time—even if Kendra and Raymond no longer seem quite so desperate to do so as he and Sara are.

Sara, who's been uncharacteristically silent during this whole meeting, is watching him and, meeting her eyes, he can see the relief in them. She feels the same.

Raymond blinks a moment, as if recalled to Earth—then beams again. "Yes!" he says enthusiastically. "Actually, yes! I actually got the last thing I needed from the lab today, and I'm going to turn it on tonight. Makes sense to do that before starting anything new, right?"

"Right," Sara murmurs, saying something for the first time. She glances at Len, but she doesn't add anything more. They can't really say their friends are experiencing the start of time drift, not when they're just doing what they need to to keep busy and survive in this time and place.

But they can't really say they're not, either.

Ray, who'd been banned from tinkering with his contraption in the living room after nearly starting a fire, promptly repairs to the bathroom, where it's stashed. The sounds of muttering and various mechanical noises emerge, and after another few minutes, Kendra rolls her eyes, grins at them, and goes to see if she can help.

Leonard tilts his head again and looks at Sara, and she looks back steadily. He wonders what she's thinking.

He's thinking, or rather, wondering, if… _they_ , this ephemeral, tentative _they_ …will continue, if Raymond presses that button and the Waverider arrives thereafter

And he wants it to. Almost desperately, he realizes, he wants it to. No matter the plans he's putting in place himself, the steps he's trying to take…

He wants Sara Lance to be a part of that.

He's on the verge of telling her so, to some extent, when Raymond carries his beacon, or what he claims is a beacon, out of the bathroom, Kendra following him and shaking her head. It doesn't look like much, but the scientist does know his business.

Raymond puts the thing down on the coffee table, rubbing his hands together.

"It's not going to start sparking this time, is it?" Leonard asks drily.

The other man gives him a hurt look, although Kendra laughs. "No. It's just going to send out a unique signal the Waverider can pick up. Just so they know where and when we are, when they come back.

 _If they come back_. He can very nearly hear Sara thinking it.

"Here we go!" Raymond pushes a button on the contraption's side. A light flashes on. And…

They all stare at it. The wind whistles through the trees outside, the faint sound of traffic audible, along with the sound of children calling to each other as they walk home from school.

No sound of an arriving time ship. No Rip Hunter banging on the door and demanding to know what in bloody hell they've been doing. It was foolish to expect such a thing instantly anyway, Leonard knows, but he'd hoped….

"Well," Kendra offers, "it might take them time. It almost certainly would, actually. And Rip would have to find a place to leave the ship, and track us down, and…"

Leonard nods, glancing at Sara. Her eyes are sad as she stares at the beacon and he thinks, not for the first time, that if he doesn't do something, this time will slowly kill her.

Or worse.

"So," he says, sighing and thinking of the plans he has in place. "we wait. Again."

* * *

It's not long after that that Leonard starts vanishing more regularly, and for longer periods of time. Mostly just a day or two at a time, at first, then a few days.

Sara watches him come and go and knows that she should talk to him, to find out what's going on. Ray's already asked, but gotten vague answers that the scientist, relatively content in his new role, has simply accepted. Kendra's more restless, but she's also settled in, making friends both among some of the women she meets while buying supplies at the market and among the members of the book group, who refreshingly don't seem to care about color. If she's talked to Leonard, she hasn't told Sara about it.

Sara still thinks maybe she could ask and find out. But she thinks she already knows.

He's got something going on. A heist? Maybe. But he's the level of distracted that suggests he's got a project in play, and she's painfully sure it's going to end with him leaving Nickel City and his cramped existence on the living room couch.

"You promised," she wants to say to him. "You promised to take me with you." Except he never really did, did he? He said he'd take her with him, but he'd never precisely _promised_.

She's seriously considering, now, going back to the League. If Len leaves, she thinks, she will. She fits in there, anyway, and she won't have to pretend to be something she's not, which is more than she can do anywhere else in this godforsaken time.

With him, she could probably stomach it. Alone…no. Ray and Kendra try, but she's a third wheel, and there's no real place for her here.

Finally, he's gone for a full week, after leaving with barely a word, a meaningful look before he heads out the door. Sara, halfway expecting him never to return, her heart hurting, makes her own plans, packs the few things she thinks she'll want to take with her. And waits, just to see, as Ray chatters about his students and research and Kendra bakes and reads and they both act married and happy.

After that week, just after they've been there about 10 weeks, Sara's sitting on the rocker Mrs. Levy had added to the front stoop of the shop, in front of the door that leads up to the apartment. Ray and Kendra had been "having a moment" (she can still hear that in Leonard's drawl) and she's escaped both to give them some privacy and get some air.

The black Corvette that pulls up behind their old car in front of the store is unsurprising, in a way. She can see it as a Leonard type of car. Sara watches as he gets out, pauses as he sees her, then wanders her way, gaze measured and eyes wary.

Sara speaks first as he reaches the stoop.

"You're leaving," she says, staring at the moths circling the light overhead, listening to the traffic. "Not just the apartment, the city."

"Yeah."

 _I thought we were a team_

 _But so did Mick._

But she doesn't say it, just continues to sit there, gently moving the rocker with a foot, watching him.

"I've been..." Leonard pauses, seems to turn the words over in his head. "...putting something together. Not too far away, and I'll probably be back through this area regularly...but yeah."

"I figured you were up to something," Sara says quietly. "You…OK?"

He doesn't answer, leaning against the doorway to the bookstore and watching her intently.

"So, are you going to come with me?" he says instead, after a moment, something taut and careful in his voice.

For a minute, sitting there on the rocker, the only sound distant traffic interrupting them, Sara thinks she misheard him.

"Come with you?" she repeats, studying him.

"I'd like you to come with me." He hesitates, then meeting her eyes. "I understand if you'd prefer to stay here but…"

But Sara interrupts him.

"Yes," she says, getting to her feet abruptly. "Yes. I thought... _yes_."

Something's changed on Len's face. It's the light in his eyes first, then it spreads to the rest of his expression, a barely breathing, barely hoping expression that touches her soul.

"Almost didn't ask," he admits, leaning back again the door. "I'd figured you might prefer to stay with the heroes. You've got some stability here, at least. And I still gotta believe Raymond's beacon is going to work, eventually. If you were here..."

"Are you _kidding_ me?" she asks again. "Of course I want to go!'

Now there's a smile on his face, a real smile, a full smile, at her answer and she realizes she's grinning back at him.

"I need to grab a bag," she tells him, stepping toward the apartment door. "And I'm not sneaking out without saying goodbye."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he drawls. "Don't tell them, but I need to as well. Say goodbye, I mean."

Sara takes the stairs two at a time, grinning, relieved when she sees Kendra turn away from the kitchen counter to blink at her. It would have been rather awkward to interrupt another "moment."

"Kendra," she says, surprised to find herself a little breathless. "I'm sorry this is so abrupt, but we're leaving."

"Leaving? We?" The other woman blinks a moment before her expression clears. "Sara? Are you running away with _Snart_?"

Her voice is a strange mix of amused and…oddly, satisfied. She's been expecting this.

"Yes," Sara tells her, trying to keep a strange bubble of giddiness out of her voice as she heads to her room. "Yes, I guess I am. Don't wait up. We'll call when we get wherever we're going."

"Are you _eloping_?"

"What? I…" Sara stops and stares at her. Then she thinks about the way she and Leonard have been dancing around each other, the social mores of the time, her definite happiness…

"No," she says cheerfully, "presumably we're just going to be living in sin. At least, if I can finally entice him into some sin. And I bet I can."

Ray, heading over from the corner of the living room and the desk he's been using as his "office," also looks a little surprised, but not truly stunned. Maybe they've been even less transparent when they thought.

"Make sure you call," he tells her, grinning, catching her in a hug. "So we can let you know when the ship gets back!"

Sara hugs him back, then turns as she hears Leonard enter the front door. Ray, moving that way, goes in for a hug, and Leonard tolerates it, giving Sara the most long-suffering look she's ever seen.

She giggles, but turns for Kendra, giving her friend a hard squeeze.

"Take care," the other woman murmurs in her ear. "And be careful, OK?"

They have two more months on the injections. Sara nods. "Promise," she breathes. "You too."

Leonard's only tolerated the hug for so long. Now he has Ray at arm's length, although he's still being remarkably unsnarky.

"Take care," he tells Ray seriously, "don't do anything too stupid, Boy Scout." Then he glances at Kendra. "Keep him outta trouble, OK?"

Kendra nods, eyes sparkling. "I'd tell you to do the same," she tells him seriously, "but I don't think that's either of your styles."

Leonard smirks back at her, then, unexpectedly, steps over to give her a hug, one she returns, winking at Sara as they part.

And then they're heading back down the stairs, toward the black Corvette. Sara tosses her bag into the bag and settles into the passenger seat, feeling…free…for the first time in weeks.

"Where are we going?" she asks belatedly as Leonard starts the car, pulling carefully away from the curb and heading off.

"You'll see." He glances at her, that little smile still hovering around his mouth. "But I think you'll appreciate it."


	7. And If You Think You Could

OK, for the record, this is going to be 10 chapters (instead of eight) now. Ch. 7 wound up being enormous and I split it into two. So they're both done, and Ch. 8 will follow in just a couple of days! Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta.

* * *

Maybe they shouldn't have headed out at night, Leonard thinks, driving east with Sara curled up in the passenger seat next to him. Truth was, he hadn't really planned on it. But Sara had been so eager, so very eager, to head out once he'd asked her to go that he just went with it.

The memory of the smile on her face when she'd realized what he was asking…he thinks it will always stick with him. He's not sure what he's done to deserve that smile. Frankly, he doesn't think he's done anything.

But he's working on it.

Sara seems content just to sit there, looking out the window, so rather than explain things yet, he just drives. The silence is comfortable, the night clear and quiet, and he…

He's happy, Leonard realizes. Actually content, with her there besides him and a mission, of sorts, ahead of him.

That's not necessarily a good thing, and he knows it. He doesn't want to stay here, in this backward time when so much about himself has to fly under the radar. (He's just fortunate that it _can_ most of the time.) He needs to rescue Mick. He needs to see Lisa again. And he even wants to see the others on the ship, to finish what they'd started and take out Savage before he can destroy so much.

But. For now, he'll take it.

* * *

After about an hour on the road, Leonard pulls off into a rest stop, where he parks the car and turns off the engine. Ah, Sara thinks, stretching and sitting up to look at him. Story time.

Len drums his fingers on the wheel, a gesture she's seen him make any number of times since they've gotten here. It generally means, she knows, that he's thinking about something intently.

Finally, he turns to her, something tentative in his eyes.

"We're heading to Orange City," he tells her. "So not that far. Another two hours, maybe, if traffic stays this light."

Sara considers that a moment, then nods. "Another college town, isn't it? A little bigger than Nickel."

Leonard nods back. "Yeah. I was moving around the state a little on…on business…and it happened to be having a run of burglaries." He holds up a hand. " _Not_ me. But it seemed like a good place to hang around because of that."

She frowns at him. "And why's that?"

His blue eyes are direct but a bit uncertain, and Sara's pretty sure she's never seen an expression quite like that on him before. After a moment, though, he reaches into a pocket, pulling out his wallet, and fishes through a moment before handing her what appears to be a business card.

Sara studies him a moment longer, then glances down at it.

"Wynters Security Solutions," she reads, hesitating before looking up at him. "Really?"

His eyes flicker, and she suddenly realizes that, just maybe, her disbelieving tone hurt. She's just not used to Leonard Snart...Wynters...being someone who can be hurt, really, with all the ice he wraps around his heart, but this is a new situation, and they're all reinventing themselves to some extent.

But before she can clarify, he shrugs, glancing away again.

"If I wasn't going to be a crook here," he says, looking back out the window, "I had to find something I _could_ do. And my education has been a bit...untraditional." He smirks a little, looking more like himself. "But I know security systems, even if they don't really exist in the same form here. So, I thought…if I could start something of the sort…maybe give a few wealthy business owners reason to seek an upgrade…"

The thought startles a laugh out of Sara.

"You didn't commit the burglaries in Orange," she says shrewdly, "but elsewhere? Just to give them a...push?"

That just gets a wicked look, and neither confirmation nor denial.

"Anyway," he continues, "after some success, I had to have a base of operations somewhere. I settled on a house, in Orange, a double, figured I could maybe rent out the other half and give someone a break on rent to answer the phone and take messages." He drums his fingers on the wheel again. "Then I...met the neighbors. And I thought of you."

Sara stares at him. "Why?" she asks finally, when no further information is forthcoming.

"That," Leonard says, starting the car again, "is going to have to be something you'll see for yourself."

But before he can start to drive, Sara reaches out and puts a hand on his arm, the gesture drawing those blue eyes back to her immediately. Then she speaks before he can.

"Len. I think this is great," she says quietly, holding up the card. "I was just...taken a little by surprise. I know you talked about a fresh start, but this is…I don't know what I expected, but I don't think it was this."

He regards her a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitches up.

"Well, I'm still not totally domesticated," he drawls, and she knows they're all right. "The whole point was to have something that didn't pin me down to a 9-to-5, or one place all the time." He hesitates, then. "I was always going to ask if you wanted...in. Just needed to have things set up first."

The thought warms her, even as she thinks about the long days wondering if he was simply going to vanish.

But: "Good," she says, settling back against the seat. "I'd been pissed if you hadn't."

"Heaven forbid I get an assassin pissed off at me."

"You know it."

* * *

It's late, but not ridiculous when they get to Orange City. Sara watches out the window as Leonard expertly navigates the streets in the 'Vette, heading through what's probably the start of the 'burbs and into the city proper until they finally get to a quiet-seeming residential street. He pulls into the driveway of a fairly large house, a slate-blue one that resembles a Victorian without excess gingerbread, and Sara blinks, a little. She'd expected something a little more…utilitarian.

Somehow, she suspects, her subconscious had been thinking "safe house.'" Instead, it looks like a home. Or like it could be.

Leonard's watching her study it, that flicker of uncertainty in his eyes again, but when she looks back at him, he simply smirks.

"The owner wanted to sell fast," he says, "and I offered cash. Like it?"

"I do." Sara eyes him, wondering if this is the time to inquire about sleeping arrangements, but he's getting out of the car now and she follows with alacrity.

But now Leonard's staring at the house next door, a similar construction in a shade of sage green, and he's frowning in a distracted sort of fashion. Sara follows his gaze, noting how sterile it seems, no personality showing on the outside at all—no flowers, no children's toys, all the curtains pulled.

"Those lights shouldn't be on," Leonard mutters, staring at it, focusing on the only sign of the life in the place. Sara can see a light on the side porch and another faintly through the window next to it, obscured by curtains. She glances back at him, seeing how his brow is furrowed, the actual…yes, concern…in his eyes.

"Leonard?" she asks quietly.

For some reason, she can see his shoulders heave in a slight sigh, just before he turns to look at her.

"I gotta go over there," he says quietly. "Told 'em before to leave those two lights on after dark only if they needed help."

Sara nods, palming her collapsed bo, which she'd tucked into her coat. "Who? What kind of trouble?"

He doesn't answer, but she sees him mark her weapon with a nod, then turn and head toward the other house. Sara shrugs and follows just a step behind.

The side door has some sort of gadgetry at the side, like nothing Sara's seen in this time before, and she watches in bemusement as Len messes with it a moment and the red light at the side goes out. Then he pulls an ordinary key ring out of his pocket, unlocking both the main lock and what seem to be several deadbolts.

Then he opens the door very carefully and Sara, behind him, tenses, peering into the dim room within.

"Rebecca?" he says in a low tone, pitching his voice to be heard. "It's me. It's Len. Are you OK? Talk to me."

There's a tiny squeak of a noise from one dark corner and Sara sees a shape reach up and turn on a lamp, illuminating things just a little better. The small, dark-haired woman sitting there stares, then jumps to her feet with a gasp that sounds like relief, taking one step toward Leonard before stopping in her tracks and blinking owlishly at Sara.

Sara has no idea what's going on, but everything about this woman screams traumatized caution, maybe PTSD, and she's not going to be party to making that worse. She slides her bo back up her sleeve and hold her hands up, empty, trying to look as innocent and harmless as it's possible for her to look.

Leonard glances at her, nodding in what she thinks is approval, then looks back at the woman. "Rebecca," he says quietly. "This is my friend Sara, the one I told you about. We just got here and saw the lights. Are you OK?"

Rebecca, who has the sort of bird-bone skinniness Sara associates with youthful malnutrition and other issues, blinks again, then relaxes in an almost boneless way that speaks more of extreme stress suddenly lightened than any true relaxation. After only a beat, she wraps her arms around herself, trembling, and drags in a breath, taking one more step toward them.

"Mr. Wynters," she says in a voice that's beating off a quaver by sheer force of will, "thank god. _He_ came back earlier. He couldn't get past your system, but we could hear him yelling. Ginny wanted to leave, but I talked her out of it, she'd be dead now, Mr. Wynters, she would if she'd left. He was yelling that he'd kill her and anyone else he found in here…"

"Shhh." With a gentleness unlike any Sara had ever seen from him before, Leonard crosses to Rebecca, reaching out carefully in such a way that she can see his hand coming slowly, to touch her shoulder. Sara can see the other woman start to flinch and is suddenly, forcibly, reminded of the way she's seen Leonard avoid touch. "It's Len, remember? Really, call me that. Sara?" Keeping his eyes on Rebecca, he motions to Sara, who also steps forward slowly, watching the other woman tense, then force herself to relax. "Sara Nyssen, this is Miss Rebecca Schuyler. She owns this house…and does all manner of good helping women in trouble."

Ah. No wonder he'd thought she'd be interested in the neighbors. Sara glances at Leonard, noting the admiration she has no doubt he'd very purposefully layered into his voice—and the way the other woman reacts to it, taking a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and giving Len a tiny smile.

"It's no big deal," Rebecca demurs.

Leonard gives her a look. "And you know I disagree. But let's leave any further introductions to tomorrow; you look exhausted."

"I just didn't dare sleep…"

"I get it." He turns around, nodding at a sofa in the small room, which appears to be a sort of parlor. "I'll sleep here, keep an eye out. Sara…"

She'd swear there's a plea in his eyes. She's also sure he knows precisely what her answer will be. How could it possibly be different?

"…would you meet the rest of the ladies, stay here tonight too? Rebecca, is David still sleeping on the daybed in your room?"

The dark-haired woman nods. "Especially after today. It really spooked him." She nibbles her lip. "So the little room is empty. It's not much…"

"It will be fine," Sara says quietly, speaking for the first time. She also modulates her voice to be as soothing as possible. "I'm glad to help in any way."

Rebecca studies her, then actually smiles a little more. "Are you really…can you…"

Sara, sensing the question, considers her wording. "Can I take out a man three times my size? Darned right I can. I've …had a lot of specialized training. And…"

She looks at Leonard, who gazes steadily back.

"…and I believe no woman should ever suffer at the hands of men," she finishes. "I'll help you in any way I can."

Rebecca looks a little baffled by Sara's assertion, but also glad to accept her help. "OK," she says slowly. "I'm going to go up and tell them you're here." She glances back at Leonard. "Thank you so much, Mr. Wynters…Leonard. And Miss Nyssen."

"Sara."

"Sara," Rebecca agrees with another small smile that can't help but exude relief. Then she turns for a nearby stairwell, calling in a low voice to tell the others in the house that it's OK.

Sara turns to Leonard. And lifts an eyebrow.

He has the grace to look a little embarrassed at all his sins of omission, although it's almost immediately cloaked in his usual insouciance and a one-shouldered shrug.

"Let's go get our bags," he says quietly. "And I'll tell you a little more."

They're both silent as they pull the bags from the trunk. Sara notices Len staring up at the blue house with what seems to be regret, but he then leans against the car with every evidence of cool calm, watching her with a steady gaze.

"You might have guessed this already, but Rebecca's father used to beat the living daylights out of her and her mother," he says after a moment. "She stayed around for her mother, her mother stayed for her...bad situation all around, but there really aren't any resources for 'battered women' in this day and age." His mouth works briefly as Sara watches silently. "Not that the ones 20, 30 years down the road were that much better. But it's worse now."

After another moment of quiet, he shrugs. "Fortunately, a few years back, he died. Cliché enough, keeled over from a stroke in the middle of reaming out some hapless underling at his business. I think the ass planned to live forever, because he hadn't updated his will to cut them out like Rebecca says he'd frequently threatened. All the money, the house, the investments, the resources from the sale of the business...it went to Rebecca's mother."

Leonard's lips twitched then. "She didn't outlast the old man long, sadly, but she made sure everything was in order, left it all to Rebecca...and told Rebecca to use it all to take care of women like her, just to spite the old bastard's ghost."

That actually startles a slight laugh out of Sara. "Oh, I think I'd have liked her," she says softly.

"Me too." Len glances at her. "Rebecca takes it very seriously, too. There are three other women here right now. Ginny-her husband is the idiot who tracked them down." Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "I'll...or we'll...figure out what to do about him later."

"'We'll,'" Sara tells him resolutely, getting a nod in return before he continues.

"Miriam, who's hiding out with her son, David, who's 12, was here when I got here." He stares off into the distance another moment. "She put up with her husband smacking her around, but then started to see the damage he was doing to the kid, who just couldn't do anything right. When he broke the kid's arm, she took the boy and left in the middle of the night. A friend directed her here. She's in Empire City now, actually, working as a housekeeper while she tries to put together some money, but she works long hours, and David doesn't…like staying alone, so Rebecca let him stay here."

His right hand comes up to rub his left arm again. Sara notices, but doesn't comment.

"And Dorothea, who has her young daughters with her," he continues. "She's planning to move on to Star City as soon as they can. I'm not sure what happened to her husband. But Doro...well, I think she might have done something before she left. I'm not asking."

"Hmm." Sara considers that, then nods. "And how did you get involved?"

 _It's not your style_ , are the words she doesn't say. But this is obviously bringing up old, bad memories for him, and who's she to say what his style is, really?

And she's already realized there's a lot more to Leonard Snart than meets the eye.

"Ginny's husband. She'd come to Orange from farm country after she'd just plain had enough, and Rebecca found her in the city trying to sell her wedding rings to have enough money to either eat, get a safe place or move on." Leonard shakes his head. "Brought her back here. And somehow, when he followed her, he'd found someone who'd seen that and knew where Rebecca lived. Followed her. I was moving some things into the house and heard him ranting outside." He darts her a look. "Couldn't just ignore it."

"Of course you couldn't."

The calm acceptance in her voice seems to help. Leonard shrugs again. "Guy like that, it's too easy to fake 'em out, at least to start. I..." A smirk drifts across his face. "...pretended to be a cop. Told 'im I was investigating them, and he was messing it up."

Sara snorts. "You _didn't_. He bought it?"

"He's not very bright. Anyway, I saw him off, then got inside, which was way too easy. Rebecca nearly took my head off with a frying pan." His smile grows a bit more genuine. "She's not quite the mouse she appears. She fights when cornered."

"Mice do," Sara murmurs, thinking of the girl on the Gambit.

She decides, perhaps, that Leonard knows what she's thinking by the look he gives her. "Right. She...well..." Now he looks a little uncomfortable again. "...once we talked, she says she figured pretty quick that I...was another one. Of what she calls 'children of the secret.'"

Sara has an idea what it means for him to bring this up so casually. She nods, but doesn't ask further when he remains quiet, shouldering her bag and nodding toward the house. "Let's get some rest. You can tell me more tomorrow."

* * *

The sofa isn't great, but he'd managed on the one in Nickel; he can manage here. Len doesn't think the asshole will decided to bust in the door at night—the man is more the type to come back in the middle of the day, full of the righteousness of "reclaiming his property"-but he'd rather better be safe than sorry. There's a terrified 12-year-old boy upstairs, along with all the others, and he's been that 12-year-old boy.

This is a small price to pay to make the kid's night a little less long.

Staring at the ceiling and shifting the throw pillows a little, he reflects that at least Sara had reacted to the situation exactly like he thought she would. Starting from the time he'd explained the matter to her to the second she'd clapped eyes on the rest of the little group of women, they'd had her, hook, line and sinker. No, it doesn't surprise him at all.

He'd always meant to ask her to work with Rebecca and the others, but he'd also thought he'd have more time. Tonight, he'd just wanted to show her the house, the room he'd figured could be a sort of training studio for her...and the bedroom and the king bed.

Sure, he'd sleep better there than on the sofa. But he's pretty sure he'll sleep better yet with her beside him.

Eventually.

No, this wasn't precisely how he'd hoped this night would go.

 _Make the plan_ , _execute the plan_ , _expect the plan to go off the rails_...

* * *

Once again, Sara wakes up in a twin bed. But the light's falling from a different angle than it did in her room back in Nickel, and as she stretches, getting her bearings, she reviews the night before, wondering what the day will bring.

"Shhh..."

"You shhh!"

Sara, facing away from the door, grins as she hears the little voices and the faint creak from the hinges of the door. Some things, she thinks, are universal. Sisters are one of them.

After a moment, she stretches again, deliberately, then sits up, eyeing the barely ajar door. Two small faces, brown with striking green eyes, peer at her through the space, eyes widening as she looks straight at them.

"Ann and Ama, right?" she says quietly, still smiling. "Good morning."

There's a brief hesitation and then one of the girls pushes the door open a little more. "Good morning!" they chorus. Then one—Ama, Sara identifies—frowns just a little.

"Momma doesn't let us sleep in so late," she says, tilting her head at Sara. "Why did you get to?"

Sara stifles a laugh while her sister, looking as scandalized as it's possible for a 5-year-old to look, gives her a nudge.

"You don't ask that!" she hisses. But the other girl looks unrepentant.

"Why not?" she asks, then looks at Sara expectantly.

Sara has a feeling that if she doesn't deliver a satisfactory answer, she's never going to hear the end of it. She pulls her legs up, crossing them, and considers the girls. "Well, I had a very long day yesterday," she says finally. "When I met you last night, Ama, you were barely awake, right? Well, imagine if you'd been up since early morning with a lot going on and hadn't slept well the night before, either. I needed to catch up."

The girl brightens, but it turns out that it's not at the explanation. "You got my name right! People don't, usually." She glances at her twin sister. "People mix us up all the time."

"I try to pay attention," Sara tells them solemnly. "Now, where…"

But they're interrupted by a clatter on the stairs outside, and then the sudden appearance of a skinny, dark-haired boy, who exclaims when he sees them…and then pales, looking away from Sara (whose pajamas aren't even remotely revealing) as if he's seen her stark naked.

"Miss Nyssen! I'm sorry," he stammers, reaching out to try to corral the girls. (Ann allows it, but Ama steps away smoothly.) "I said I'd watch them, but I was reading and..."

Sara's more amused than anything else, but he's reacting as if he's committed some sort of dire, unforgivable sin. Given what she knows of David Jacobi, it's not funny. Not at all.

"It's OK," she tells him quietly, leaning forward just a little. "Really, I was awake. It's OK."

He gives her a slightly panicked, wide-eyed look, then starts again as a voice sounds from behind him.

"David?"

Sara gets a quick look at the flash of mingled worry and hero worship in the boy's eyes before he turns toward Leonard's voice. Both girls grin, though-he's apparently a favorite here. And even though Leonard Snart coming to the rescue of a houseful of "damsels" in distress doesn't surprise her all that much-not with his background-the realization of how much the kids adore him is just a little startling.

"Mr. Wynters!" David says quickly. "Miss Schuyler said you were here, but you weren't at breakfast..."

"I went over to my house to check on things, shower and get changed." He leans into the room to smirk at Sara, who rolls her eyes, but grins back. "And you can call me Len, David."

The boy looks pleased but uncertain. "Mom wouldn't like me calling you that."

"Yeah, well, I kept telling your mom the same thing...and she wouldn't do it either." He switches his gaze to Sara, then back. "I need to talk to Miss Nyssen. Sorry, girls. Treats later."

They both perk up. "You brought us something?" Ann asks.

"Don't I always?" He winks at them as Sara watches, bemused. "David, I found you that book I mentioned, too."

The boy grins, the first expression unalloyed by worry she's seen on his face, then nods, corralling the girls and ushering them out of the room. Len steps in as they leave, then pushes the door closed with a foot. Sara leans back as he does, smirking at him.

"You'll scandalize them," she says, "being alone in here with me like this."

Leonard's eyes darken, just a little, and she really, really wishes that they were somewhere a bit more private. OK, a lot more private.

But then he shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe, and giving her a guarded look. "How are you?"

"Fine. Slept like a rock, actually. Long day." She eyes him. "And you? Back on the sofa again?"

"Eh. I'll live." His lips twitch. "Got a king bed over at the house."

Oh, like that's going to help that wish. Sara mock-glares at him. "Tease."

"I'll share."

Oooh, the drawl on that word. Sara narrows her eyes as he smirks, but then sighs. "Well," she says, getting to her feet, "I sort of promised them I'd stay here until we've taken care of…the problem. With Ginny's ex. They're spooked, Len, if not outright terrified."

The momentary protest on his face has been replaced by understanding. "Ah. Yeah. Still working on that."

"A shallow grave sounds like a good idea to me," Sara mutters, looking through her bag for a change of clothes. But there's no conviction in the words. As someone had once told her, that's not her anymore.

She hears Leonard's snort of agreement. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be opposed. But even after everything, I don't know if Ginny would be OK with that. And it would lead attention back to her, and by association, to Rebecca and the others here."

"Have the cops…"

"They give him a warning and shrug it off as 'what can you do?'" There's a brief flicker of fury in his eyes. "There are laws against beating your wife and kids, but there will always be people who see it as…correction. And not really a problem they should have to deal with."

Impossible not to hear the experience in his voice. Sara, thinking of how her dad would have—and has-reacted to such situations, pauses, but doesn't say anything.

She's pretty sure Len senses her thoughts anyway. He gives her a tight-lipped smile as she turns toward him. "I'm sure not all the cops think that. Even as a crook, I knew there are always good eggs just like there are always bad ones. But they sure haven't seen any yet here, and they have reason to distrust men. And the cops are pretty much all men, in this day and age."

And there's not much more she can say to that. She knows, after all, that it's true.

* * *

Leonard's house is, unexpectedly, rather…homey.

He'd rather diffidently pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and suggested she could get showered and changed there—the better to not have to compete with seven other people for the bathroom. Sara, who'd managed to sit on her curiosity thus far, took them with alacrity, choosing to take her entire bag and walk across the lots to the slate-blue house.

She wanders through the kitchen, which is neat as a pin—not surprising, considering both Leonard being, well, Leonard and not being here that often. Feeling a little like a voyeur, but not enough to resist the urge, she takes a quick look into the relatively bare cupboards, grinning as she sees the fixings (including mini marshmallows) for homemade hot cocoa. The fridge has even less—well, he just got back into town—but there are a few apples and she makes a mental note for later. Big breakfasts have never been her thing, and one of those will work nicely.

The living room has hardwood floors and just a few pieces of furniture. She peeks into a room off to the side and nods when it seems to be an office of sorts, with a phone, desk and a few workbenches strewn with electronics. There's another door next to it and she hesitates, but lets her curiosity win, easing the door open and glancing inside.

It's … well, it looks like a small martial arts studio.

There are mats on the floors and even a large, full-length mirror on two walls. And there's—Sara turns her head for a better look-a weapons rack near the door. She blinks, nibbling her lip, then steps back, closing the door softly behind her.

Leonard's a scrapper, but the only weapon he's interested in is his cold gun. She's tried to show him a few martial arts forms, when sparring, but he's never been that interested in those, either.

That room, put together with such care, can't be for him.

Lost in thought, she heads for the stairs and the main bathroom, only to pause again in the living room, looking at the only two pieces of art on the walls. One is a stunning black-and-white photograph of a city skyline, and while there are a few buildings missing during this time, she's seen enough photos of Central to know that this is Leonard's home

The other is a photograph of the Star City skyline, which she recognizes easily as breathing.

And five minutes later, she's still standing there, staring at it.

* * *

The phone is labeled with the number. Showered and dressed, Sara calls Kendra and Ray's number, grinning as Kendra answers. It feels like it's been a lot longer than a night and morning and as much as she'd wanted to get away from the apartment, it's good to hear Kendra's voice, another link to home in more ways than one.

The other woman establishes that they're safe and well, a note of relief in her tone, then asks a few arch leading questions about their relationship. Sara, smirking, adroitly sidesteps them—especially since she's not sure where things are going herself.

"And how are you?" she asks, toying with the sort of coiled phone cord she remembers from childhood. "Sorry we ran out so quickly. I mean, we should talk regularly, make sure we're not…drifting…too much. Some's probably a good thing, but none of us want to forget who we are. I think."

Kendra's quiet a moment, then sighs. "I'm fine," she says. "Ray's fine. He likes teaching. _We're_ fine. We're good. It's good. The beacon is still transmitting; we're still waiting. But…"

Sara waits, running the cord through her fingers.

"It's such a tightrope," Kendra says finally. "Be miserable and don't lose yourself. Or be happy and risk losing yourself. I want to…oh, I don't know, hawk out and go on patrol. Tell one of the condescending asses at the physics faculty get-together what I think of him. Even get a damned espresso at one of the city coffee shops without getting called 'little lady' or 'sweetheart.'"

"Hmmm. Maybe we can meet in Gotham at some point, go on patrol with Kathy. And we should definitely check in every week. Say, every Sunday afternoon?"

"I'd like that." The other woman pauses. "And you?"

Sara thinks of the women in the house across the way, how some of them had brightened at the idea of learning how to defend themselves, about the problem of their harasser, about two little girls who still have a spark. About the studio and the weapons rack and a man who constantly challenges her.

"I think…" she says slowly, "that I have some things that will help keep me _me_."

* * *

Sara returns from the house looking thoughtful. She smiles when she sees Leonard, who's sitting at a table looking over some papers with Rebecca, crossing to take a seat next to him.

"How are you this morning?" she asks Rebecca, who looks a little sheepish at the words, ducking her head.

"I'm fine, Miss Nyssen," the other woman says quietly. "I'm so sorry that we welcomed you to Orange City in such an inhospitable way yesterday. You must think…"

But Sara's shaking her head. "No. Please. You were in an awful position and I'm glad to have helped in even a small way." She glances at Len, who's watching her with warmth lurking in his eyes. "And I'm hoping to help more."

Rebecca's expression is an interesting mix of tentative and hopeful. "You're still willing to…"

"…to show us how to beat someone up? I mean, someone a lot bigger?"

Ginny Hayes (who's legally still Travers, but now refuses to use her husband's name) is tall, her reddish-brown hair tied back in a single fraying braid, and there are muscles in her lean arms that come from a life spent working on her family's farm and then her husband's. To Sara's best judgment, she's no pushover, but she's candidly mentioned that her ex, the much-hated Wayne Travers, was a very big man. And she still can't hear well out of her right ear, the result of a clout to the head, and had blackouts for a while, although those have mostly stopped.

She'd told Sara last night, fire in her eyes, that no one is ever going to make her feel that helpless again. Sara, sensing a kindred spirit in more ways than one, had promised to help.

Now the young woman crosses the room to pull out a chair and sit down, smiling at all of them. Despite her experiences, she's still a pistol, as Sara's dad would say, and she seems determined not to let fear win.

"I can show you some tricks," Sara points out mildly. "At least to start. Mainly to get away from someone who's grabbed you. If you want to know more, we can work on that. I've trained a long time to get to where I am."

"Trained how?"

Leonard smoothly cuts in, preventing Sara from having to dodge how to explain the League or a fraction of the other experiences she's had. "Ginny, Rebecca said Stephen dropped off this divorce paperwork earlier yesterday. Lawyer who's doing some pro bono work with them," he adds in an aside to Sara, then switches his attention back. "Do you think…Wayne…somehow found out you were pursuing this?"

Ginny chews on her lip. "I don' know how. Unless he really is stayin' in the city to…to keep an eye on me." There's a flicker of fear in her eyes. "To leave the farm that long…even in his brother's hands…he'd really hafta be serious…"

Rebecca reaches over Sara can speak and grabs the other woman's right hand, which has tightened into a fist on the top of the table. "We won't let him have you," the dark-haired woman says forcefully. "We _won't_. I won't!"

Ginny gives her a look of gratitude, putting her left hand over the top of their joined hands. "I knew you won't, honey. You're amazing. But I'm worried about you and the others. I don' want to bring trouble down on you."

Rebecca blushes and Sara gives Leonard a speaking glance at the more overt signs of something she'd noticed last night. She's pretty sure neither woman considers the relationship to be more than friendship, but she's also pretty sure Rebecca has a full-blown crush. Ginny…perhaps.

Len raises an eyebrow in return, a smirk crossing his features, then gets serious again. "Stephen will represent you in family court, Ginny," he says gently, "since the city has one now. And we have the doctor's report from the clinic Rebecca had you visit, backing up your claims."

"But he can say I deserved it. Gettin' hit. 'Cause I had an 'attitude.' He's said that all along. An' I guess I do. The black eye, the broken wrist..."

Sara feels the sparking of rage in her heart and from his expression, she thinks Leonard does too. She thinks about what he'd said weeks ago, about his mother, and reaches out under the table to touch his hand, earning herself a startled glance.

But then his fingers wrap around hers, even as he brings his expression under control and looks at Ginny again.

"If you want this," he tells her, "I…we…will make it happen. OK? You probably won't get alimony…"

"I don' want any of his money! I can take care of myself."

All of them know it's not that simple. But Leonard nods anyway, then changes the subject.

But the subject doesn't go away.

* * *

There's a reason it's always been ice for him. Even back before the cold gun, before "Captain Cold."

Leonard might make comments about how Mick "runs hot" (dear god, he hopes Mick still exists to run hot), but he does, too, in his own way. From time he'd gotten old enough, self-possessed enough, to see how his father treated him, treated his mother, and to realize that they didn't, after all, deserve any it…from that time on, there'd been a fire in his belly, deep inside, a spark of rage ready to burn out of control at a moment's notice.

It'd been Lisa, even as a baby, who'd helped him realize that maybe it wasn't all his fault. Because if Lewis treated her the same way, and if she hadn't done a damned thing except be an innocent little girl…well, maybe he hadn't done a damned thing either. And neither had his mom.

But letting the rage loose, he'd known even then, could get him killed. Lewis wouldn't have hesitated to put a bullet in his skull if he thought his son was anything less than truly under his thumb. And then who would take care of Lisa? And the other people he'd worked with, back before he managed to get away, to make a name for himself.

And worse, it'd make him like his father, the man who had a matching sense of rage, although for reasons Leonard's willing to admit he'd never fully understood. Because he, a shitty cop, had continually been passed over? Because as a crooked cop, he'd gotten caught?

Whatever. Len had chosen the ice rather than setting the rage free, wrapping it around his heart and soul, clinging to it because it hurt less than the fire.

He's outside in the cold, now, getting a grip, watching the visible vapor of his breath in the chilly air—imminent spring having fled the region for the moment. He hears Sara approaching, her careful step on the gravel of the driveway, but doesn't turn.

"We need to get Travers to leave them alone, and to not contest the divorce," he says, staring into the gray sky. "Any thoughts?"

"Well. I still like the shallow grave idea, but I also get why that's not the best option." She sighs, moving to his side and staring up at the sky as well. "You're got more background than I do. Why's he so determined? Possessiveness? Does he think he loves her?"

Len considers. "I'm not sure. Ginny said things were good once." His lips twitched. "As you might have noticed, she's a good bit more…earthy…than the others, and that's not precisely what she said. I thought Miriam was going to faint," he added as an aside before frowning again. "Then times got a little tougher, and he started taking it out on her. She thought it would stop…"

He shrugs. "It didn't. It got worse. And then he knocked her unconscious and left her on the kitchen floor for three days—she wasn't out all that time, but she was hurt. As soon as she could…she ran."

Sara makes a considering noise. "No family?"

"None that don't think she probably deserved it and wouldn't ship her right back to him."

The noise she makes then is not considering then. It's a little scary, actually. "Well, maybe we need to make him think he doesn't want her back. That it's better if she's gone, free and clear. As long as he thinks he does want her, sounds like he'll keep coming."

"Hmm." A thought occurs to him, but Len decides he needs to examine it a while. He finally turns to Sara, who looks back at him, lifting an eyebrow. "Thanks."

It's not just for her words, and she seems to know it from the small smile she gives him. "Any time." Then she chuckles a little. "I like them. And you do realize that Rebecca has a massive crush on Ginny?"

"I'd noticed that. I don't know that she'd ever have the nerve to act on it, though." He considers. "Ginny, on the other hand…"

Sara snickers, but leaves the topic be for now. "Dorothea says you've said you're going to get her and the girls new ID…"

"And I am, as soon as I get the nerve to go back into Gotham."

Sara eyes him, but she doesn't ask. "And Miriam?"

"I don't know. She's just…defeated."

"Hmmmm." Her eyes are sad. "But she won't go back?"

"No. For David's sake."

"And that boy has a very nice case of hero worship, you know."

Leonard snorts. "Poor kid. Need to find him some better role models."

Sara makes a noise of annoyance and nudges him. "He could do worse."

"Than a crook?" His voice is harsh and he doesn't even want to apologize for it. But Sara doesn't get annoyed. She doesn't do anything more than reach out to take his cold fingers in hers.

"Than someone who cares." Her voice is quiet. "Don't say that you don't."

He doesn't even try.


	8. Your Chances Are Awfully Good

Warning: This one gets steamy. This is a slightly toned-down version, but if you'd rather avoid the steamiest bits anyway, stop at "Stop complaining and move it, Leonard."

;)

* * *

It's funny, really. Sara's back sleeping in a tiny twin bed, back to watching Leonard come and go. But it's amazing how different having a…an occupation, a cause…makes things. Well, she supposes that's one of the reasons she became Star City's Canary in the first place.

She genuinely likes the women at 19 Gabriel Drive. Young Sara, before the Gambit, might have sneered at them—about why it took them so long to leave their situations, about how they're still somewhat in the roles society has dictated for them.

Older Sara…has a lot more experience. Enough to know it's not so simple to leave those roles behind.

It makes her, she thinks, understand Lindsay even better.

Rebecca, while skittish and occasionally aghast at Sara' boldness, is determined and kind. While her little safehouse isn't actually a nonprofit—anti-domestic violence organizations simply don't exist at this point—she almost runs it like one, curled up in a chair at the dining room table, pencil scratching across countless notepads as she keeps track of investments and assets.

There's a lovely office in the house, Leonard tells Sara, but Rebecca refuses to use it, to even open the door. It was her father's.

She hadn't married, she says quietly, despite all her father's wealth, because the old man had apparently had a terror of a younger man in the family coming in and taking "what was rightfully his." There are all sorts of levels to that quiet statement and many of them make Sara shudder, but she leaves it be.

At any rate, the dark-haired woman gazes at the louder, bolder, more easy-going Ginny like she's everything she wants in the world. Sara's not sure if she's aware of it—neither Rebecca nor Ginny—but it's definitely there, and Sara's been pondering how she can address that, too, without thoroughly scandalizing both of them.

Not that Ginny is easily scandalized. The former farmgirl is open about enjoying certain aspects of her marriage before it went downhill, and equally open about wanting to learn everything about self-defense Sara can teach her. She's also determined, in a less quiet way, and smart. She's been talking with a bemused Leonard about added a flock of chickens to the yard, so they can have fresh eggs and make a bit of money by selling the others, and seems to have no intention to go anywhere, as long as they can just get Wayne to leave them all alone.

Dorothea Smith, mother of the twins Ama and Ann, does intend to leave, just as soon as Leonard gets them their new identities. She has friends in Star, and a salon business she's going to help run, and she never, ever mentions her former husband. She still seems startled, a little, that Rebecca had been willing to take them in despite her color, and she throws herself in to helping with the little household as best she can, taking over laundry duties with an uncanny eye to getting out many types of stains and marks.

The girls think Sara's the best thing they've ever seen. Both irrepressible Ama and quiet Ann start seeking her out during the day to chatter (Ama) and ask questions (Ann) and Sara deals with them patiently, she thinks, trying to encourage their spirit.

Ann has confided in Leonard and Sara both that she wants to go to college, to become a nurse. "No one would see my mom when she needed one," she says simply, and if that's a pretty lofty ambition for a 5-year-old, well, Sara can understand. They've already agreed that Doro will leave for Star with whatever kind of nest egg they can give her—and that one way or another, they'll find a way to make sure the girls' future is as bright as they can.

And then there's David.

The boy looks at Leonard with all the hero worship a 12-year-old boy can muster. Len seems alternately uneasy with it and determined to be an actual role model, and Sara can't help smiling every time she sees the two of them together, the boy speaking earnestly, the man listening equally earnestly.

The first time that sight engenders thoughts of Lance-Snart babies, though, she's not sure whether to blame time drift or simple hormones. Either way, she escapes to the studio and trains until she's exhausted, thoughts of being someone's mother drifting away…for now.

Leonard, who is, after all, running an actual business in addition to all this, vanishes here and there, mostly for just a day at a time, to visit local companies he's dealing with. Most of his work is security consultations—electronic security systems are still a new idea that's eyed skeptically by most—and Sara has a good laugh at how Ray would react to that idea.

They're back to stealing a kiss here and there, a bit of touching, one rather heated makeout session in the kitchen when she'd arrived to shower one morning. It's slow…but something in the air has changed. It's anticipation, Sara thinks, rather than uncertainty, and one of these days, they'll finally have some time…

"Oh, that man wants you," Ginny tells her candidly one day as they're hanging some sheets in the backyard, on a day that, in the manner of the area, can't seem to decide if it's winter, spring, or summer. Leonard had just sauntered past on his way to the house, trading nods with Ginny and a _look_ with Sara. "But you're not, yet, are you? Whyever not?"

None of the others would have said that. They would just have asked why she didn't have a ring yet. Ginny's rather more realistic. Sara smiles a little, thinking back over the past few months, then sighs. "Oh," she says thoughtfully, "just waiting for the right time, I guess."

The other woman nudges her, grinning. "Hon, you keep waitin' for the right time, it'll never get here. You're a bold one. Go out there and take what you want." She giggles as Sara lifts an eyebrow at her. "Oh, the way he looks at you! It's something."

Sara laughs softly. "Yeah," she says, pinning up a sheet. "I have noticed." She pauses, eyes fixed on the sheet. "It's a little," she says after a moment, "like the way Rebecca looks at you."

Ginny's silent for so long that Sara glances at her, hoping she hasn't judged the situation completely wrong.

The other woman's hazel eyes are huge, a bit startled, but not horrified. She opens her mouth, then closes it. Sara reaches for another sheet, waiting.

"I…I kinda noticed," Ginny finally says, a little jerkily. "I…I dunno. I…" She swallows, audibly, and Sara hangs more laundry, letting her work though it. "I…kinda like her, too, I jus'…bad as it got with Wayne, you know, I like _guys_ too…"

 _Too_. Ah, that's encouraging. Sara considers a moment before nodding.

"You know, it's not an either/or proposition," she says casually. "You can like both."

Ginny makes a thoughtful, surprised noise. "You can? I mean, that's a thing people _do_?"

Sara smirks a little to herself. "Well, _I_ do." She's not going to tell them about Leonard. That's his business.

"Huh," is all Ginny says for the moment, but the seed is planted. Sara smiles to herself as she hangs up a pillowcase.

If this is the impact she'll have on history…well, she's all for that.

* * *

The peace can't last, of course. About 10 days after Sara's arrival, she's running through some forms in what she's certainly come to think of as "her" studio, thinking idly about what she can adapt for Ginny and Rebecca and potentially other women, when she hears a loud engine outside, a masculine bellow of anger…and a woman's scream.

Sara's outside, running for the other house before she even has a real plan, something she's aware Leonard the planner would frown upon. But she's here and he's not; he's in the city installing a system. And she's given these women the impulse to resist without all the skills to do so, in this time that so frowns on any sort of female resistance to the roles society dictates. They're her responsibility.

A large man is standing in the driveway of 19 Gabriel Drive, and Sara, long a student of asshole men, judges him immediately as more bark than bite. But that doesn't mean he's not dangerous, especially given the power he still wields over his "wife"…who's lying in the gravel a few feet in front of him, curled around her left arm, sobbing. And between them stands Rebecca, who looks scared to death, but determined, even as Wayne Travers bears down on her.

If the other neighbors start seeing them as a disturbance….

Sara calls out, trying to distract the man, but he's too focused on the two in front of them to hear. Rebecca, however, does, a flash of gratitude on her face, and takes another stop back to crouch near Ginny as Sara skids to a halt where she'd been, facing the man.

Wayne Travers is built like a brick wall, beefy and muscled, and he's red-faced with anger right now. He blinks at Sara in surprise, raised fists dropping to his sides as he registers her. Sara's in a fighting stance, even though she's in a typical '50s dress, and she supposes someone like her is rather completely beyond his experience.

After only a moment, rage flashes back through his eyes and his fists come up again as he takes a step toward her threateningly, sneering, then another.

It's not like Sara's never heard the epithet he snarls then. She's heard it plenty of times. But in that particular tone of utter disgust, as she stands there ready to protect these two women who have already been through so much, who have become her friends…well.

Out of almost nowhere, after sleeping for weeks, the blood lust surges, leaving her vision limned with red. Her blood roars in her ears, and her field of view narrows, focusing on the sneering man in front of her, who so clearly believes that women aren't quite human, and certainly no more than property for the taking.

She wants to kill at that moment. She wants to kill him, to paint the driveway with his blood, to show everyone in this time and place that they do _not_ mess with anyone Sara Lance calls her own, to cut and stab and…

But she can also hear Ginny cursing, and Rebecca pleading, behind her. And she knows, in her heart of hearts, what will happen if she gives in to the blood lust, how she'll undo everything she's worked to teach them, to show them what they can be. She'll ruin this little enclave of women fighting to put their lives back together. And Leonard, the life he's been trying to put together for, yes, both of them, he'll lose that. And she'll lose…

She takes a breath. Then another. It's only been seconds, but it feels like years. Certainly Wayne doesn't realize how perilously close he's come to violent death.

"Buncha bitches, thinking you can keep a good man from his wife," he adds. "Teachin' her god knows what awful things. I got my rights."

Ginny, having regained some form of backbone behind Sara, raises her voice, telling him precisely what he can do with those rights, Rebecca trying to hush her. Sara keeps her eyes focused on Wayne, trying to keep the blood lust from taking over again, trying to figure out her best bet here.

"Leave now," she tells him coldly, taking her step forward. "This isn't your property. The house or her. Or we will _make_ you move."

If he'd looked angry before, he looks enraged now. With a bellow, he swings at her…but Sara's not there. She's moved to his side, where she hooks a foot around his ankle and, without fanfare, brings him crashing to the ground.

Ginny lets out a whoop of excitement, but Sara knows that if she mishandles this, it will only get worse. She puts a knee on the man's chest, in just such a way that he can't get the leverage to rise, and palming a knife from her sleeve, holds the razor-sharp edge up in front of his face.

The rage is still there, but it's mingled with actual fear. Good. At least he's smart enough to know real trouble when he sees it.

She doesn't explain or threaten in words. She holds the knife there for a long moment, letting him focus on it, then nods, and speaks.

"I'm going to let you up in a moment," Sara says quietly. "Go right to your truck and leave. If you don't, I can take you down again. And again. And at one point I might decide to use this."

The man's mouth moves, but no words come out. The rage grows momentarily, but Sara slowly turns the knife, showing off the edge, and the fear battles back. The Travers farm, she knows, raises animals for slaughter in addition to crops. He knows the kind of damage a knife like that can do.

Then he nods jerkily.

Sara rises in one smooth motion, stepping back, keeping herself between him and the other women. After a second, he gets to his feet clumsily, and, oh, the hate in his eyes as he looks at her.

But the fear's there too. Good.

"Gonna pay," he tells her, disgust and anger and hate mingled in his tone.

Sara doesn't respond. She just watches as he crosses to his truck, limping just a little, and drives off.

* * *

Ginny's wrist is wrenched, but somehow not broken, Sara thinks. She'd tried to use a move Sara had taught her on him, but she hadn't quite managed it. From how she describes it, Sara's guessing she just hadn't been able to bring herself to commit.

Sara, however, doesn't think that's going to be a problem after today. The anger in the other woman's hazel eyes is a bonfire, and it rages while Sara carefully wraps her wrist, as Ginny looks at Rebecca, scolding the dark-haired woman for trying to protect her.

There's something else, something quite speculative, in her eyes too, as she watches the slight blush on Rebecca's cheeks, the other woman's protests that she _had_ to. Sara shakes her head, finally, amused by that at least, and leaves them, going to check on the others, who'd retreated to a hidey hole in the basement behind a locked door, something Len and Sara had helped set up.

They're fine, if rattled, and Sara follows them back up the stairs, a hand on David's shoulder as the boy drags his feet. They're no sooner upstairs, though, then there's a sound at the door, and Ginny leaps to her feet even as Sara moves toward it.

Her wary stance fades, though, as Leonard pushes it open. He pauses at the look on Sara's face, at the frozen stillness of the others…

And then the usually-stoic Dorothea bursts into relieved tears, and it all dissolves from there.

* * *

It's hours later, and everyone's calmed down for the most part, before Leonard finally heads back to his house. Sara goes too; she feels a bit guilty about not staying after such an incident, but Leonard's bumped up the security system even more and they've all agreed that she'd put enough fear into their intruder that he won't be back tonight.

That he'll be back eventually, no one doubts at all.

Sara has some thoughts on that, actually, based on how the man had reacted to her, but she's just too weary to bring them up right now. She needs to talk to Leonard, just the two of them again, and she wouldn't mind a good night's sleep in that big king bed, if he's still willing to share.

Rebecca notices that she grabs her bag before leaving, both eyebrows rising, but she doesn't say anything. She does give Sara a hug and a murmured, fervent "thank you," however, and Sara hugs her back, glad that she'd managed to help in some way.

They walk to the other house in silence, Leonard unlocking the door and ushering her in ahead of him. When they're both inside, she hears him engage the locks, then sigh, turning and crossing the kitchen to her.

"Sara?"

He knows, she's pretty sure. Knows that something else is wrong. Maybe not specifically that she nearly gave in to the blood lust, that she wavered and almost forgot herself…but something. Sara opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head and moving into the living room, uncertain how to even begin.

"Sara."

* * *

Something's wrong. Something beyond the asshole she'd confronted today, the one who'd threatened her and scared the others so badly. Len watches her drift across the living room, then turn and pace back to him, reaching up to rub her eyes, looking…frightened. Not of Travers himself, he's sure. Then what?

He says her name again, softly, nothing more. He doesn't want to press; that's not what she needs right now. She needs to tell him herself.

Finally, Sara takes a deep breath and regards him with worried blue eyes, and he has to stifle the desire to pull her into his arms and tell her everything will be OK. A faint bit of time drift on his part? It's not something he'd usually ever try with Sara Lance.

"The blood lust..." She takes a deep breath. "I nearly lost control. I wanted to kill him, Leonard. I was going to murder him right there. I was going to toy with him like a cat with a mouse; I wanted to, to geld him, then cut his throat and laugh as he bled out…"

"But you didn't."

"But I could have. I could have, so easily."

He starts to repeat his assertion, then pauses. There's so much pain and panic in her voice and it won't do any good to simply deny it.

For a moment, he's at a loss for what to do.

And then, suddenly, he's not.

* * *

Leonard regards her a moment. Then: "Spar with me."

Sara blinks at him. "What?"

"You heard me, White Canary." He shrugs off his suit coat, then bends to remove his shoes, managing to keep his eyes on hers. "Spar with me."

The words shouldn't make her uneasy. She should laugh at him and saunter over to flirt, posture, and then wipe the floor with his overconfident ass. Instead, she hesitates, uncertain, fears nearly choking her, the thought that she could hurt him…

"I can kick your ass, Snart," she says, hating the uncertainty that makes it into her voice.

"Prove it." Boots removed, he hesitates only a moment before stripping off his dress shirt so he's wearing just a thin white T and his slacks. Then he advances toward her in a certain inexorable fashion, eyes narrowed in a way that suggests he's not backing down.

Sara folds her arms and glares. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." He halts just out of striking distance, smirking, and she realizes that although he might not start a sparring session until she consents, he'll sure as hell prod her until she _wants_ to kick his ass. "What, afraid you can't take me?"

"I could take you with a hand tied behind my back."

"Then do it." His voice is low and smoky, the tone that tends to send chills down her spine-and suddenly, she wonders if they're really talking about sparring here. " _Take_ me, Sara."

Well, then.

It helps, actually, wakes a sort of warmth deep in her belly, and she licks her lips, finding a smirk returning to her face as she eyes him. The undershirt he's wearing is rather tight and looks damned good on him as he stands there, hipshot, watching her. It's so thin that she can see the faint dark shadow of the salt-and-pepper hairs on his chest underneath, and even though his black slacks aren't as tight as his usual jeans, they're tight enough. And OK, yeah, she's drooling.

And two can play this game.

She's not, now, in the mood to go look for her workout clothing. She reviews what she's wearing under her dress, then shrugs and starts undoing buttons.

By the time she's stepping out of it, Leonard is wearing a rather satisfyingly flummoxed expression, and it's only what he deserves for what he'd pulled earlier. Sara keeps eye contact as she steps out of the dress, wearing nothing more than a bra (a gray satin one she rather likes, actually), matching underwear, a garter belt and stockings. She drops into a fighting stance without another word—keeping the damned stockings on, because he does, indeed, seem rather distracted by them—and waits.

Leonard blinks, then shakes his head, advancing.

She blocks him easily, evading his attempt to grab her arm, grabbing his wrist instead and twisting it up and behind him as she spins. He yanks it away, and she lets him, turning to follow his motion as he steps back, then feints toward her again.

This time, she lets him approach a little closer, stepping back until he has her pinned right up against the living room wall, even though he's not touching her. His hands and forearms are braced on either side of her shoulders and she can feel the warmth of him, smell a faint whiff of clean sweat and cologne, something cold and clear. It's distracting, as is the position, and Sara closes her eyes, struggling to regain her equilibrium again.

"Sara?" Leonard whispers, lips far too close to her ear. "Come back."

Her eyes blink open, staring at the line of his neck leading down into that T-shirt, at the tension in the muscles, the tendons, the flicker of a pulse point there...

She moves, then, ducking under his right arm and whirling away, shaking her head again.

"I hate this," she informs him as he turns to face her.

Leonard's eyebrows rise. "Sparring?" he drawls, sauntering toward her in a casual way that doesn't fool her for a second. Sara tenses, circling him and frowning.

"No." A feint of her own, but he dodges it. "Worrying about the blood lust. I could…hurt you. It makes me feel like…like I can't focus, or like I can't focus on the right things."

"Hmm." He considers, but then, without overt warning, rushes her. Sara, who'd seen him tense just before the move, though, ducks away, reaching out to jab his shoulder with two fingers, a gesture that would have counted as a stab wound during their Waverider sparring sessions.

Leonard shrugs it off, though he lets his arm go limp, turning toward her again. "What _are_ the right things?"

"Right now?" Sara studies him, the room around them, cataloguing the various ways she could take him down without damaging the furniture or hurting him. "My training. Remembering who I am. That I've been Ta-er al-Safer. And that I _am_ the White Canary. Even here." She moves closer, and he watches her, eyes dark and deliberate. "That _I'm_ in control."

" _Yes_." He fakes to her right, then dodges left, but she's ready for him, sweeping a kick toward his knees that has him dancing backward and nearly falling, but steadying himself, catlike, to regain his feet. "And what else?"

"What else?" Sara watches his eyes, deducing his next move and moving to counter it so quickly that he gives the attack up, backing away again. "That I'm from 2016, not 1958. That I believe in taking charge, damnit, and not just letting things happen to me. That I choose my own fate, for better or for worse."

She surges forward and this time she's the one who pins him up against the wall, forearm pressed against his throat in a way that could cut off oxygen very quickly. Len freezes, but seems otherwise unfazed, staring at her again with those dark eyes.

"Right," he says in so low a tone she can barely hear him. "And what do you want?"

What _does_ she want? "To go home." To keep the pressure on his throat, she has to be up on her toes, and they're pressed together in such a way that it's impossible not to think about what else she wants. The warmth within is still there, the desire that she's realizing she's banked to keep from giving away their rather...nontraditional...courtship to the women, and it's spreading now as she moves a little closer, her right knee pressed between his, staring at his mouth as he looks down at her with both lust and affection clear in his gaze.

"And what else?" Barely a whisper.

"To...to do some good here before we go."

"And?"

All right, he's fishing. "Right now, to make you stop asking questions!"

Sara removes her arm and takes a few steps back abruptly. Len blinks at her and takes a step or two himself, but before he can make another move, she reaches out and sweeps his feet right out from under him.

He hits the ground perhaps a little harder than she'd intended, flat on his back with a startled "oof," and Sara, who'd followed him down, plants herself right on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips and her arms braced and holding down his.

Victorious, she lets him catch his breath, smirking as he drags in a few deep breaths, shaking his head as if to clear it before looking up and meeting her eyes.

There's something in that look that suddenly has her taking a deep breath too—something heated and direct, and-this is the word that comes to mind— _ready_.

"There's Sara Lance," he says quietly, eyes holding hers. "How do you feel?"

She feels like...

Like...

Herself. She feels like herself. No time drift. No blood lust. Just the assassin and her crook, Sara and Len, in what it's impossible to ignore is a _very_ compromising position.

It feels _good_.

With a low hum, she leans over and kisses him, hard, lips moving to swallow whatever it is he's starting to say next, hands tightening on his upper arms convulsively.

His hands go immediately to her hips, holding her rock-steady. Sara can't help moving against him again, a gasp escaping her lips. When she looks down at him again, Len's staring up at her, expression heated, an element of wonder in the look. But his hands are still steady, still holding her close against him.

Sara bites her lip, hard, trying to regain control. She's pretty sure they both want this—she knows she wants it _a_ _lot_ —but she needs to hear him say it.

"Enough time?" she asks softly. "Are you OK?"

* * *

He'd asked her for time, weeks, months ago.

Here like this, it's kind of difficult to remember why. Sara's golden hair is tousled around her face, falling into her eyes, lending her a rather wild air, and the smile on her face only adds to the impression. She looks impish and rather wanton, in the best way—and like she'd rather like to eat him alive.

And, _damn_ , that thought doesn't help.

Why? He tries to think, stifling a groan as she shifts a little, making a noise that sounds like a purr. Oh, right: Because he'd panicked. Because he didn't want to mess up this partnership, here in this time and place where they only had each other, in a way.

But now…they're here, they're here together, and he's pretty damned sure neither of them is interested in going anywhere.

Except for the bedroom. Yeah, maybe there.

"Enough time," he acknowledges, then surges up to kiss her, moving into a seated position with a smoothness he's kind of smug about. Sara gasps, then laughs and _damn_ it…

That sparring session had gotten them both pretty worked up and (skimpy) clothes or no clothes, from the sounds Sara's making, this could go really, really fast. He's on edge enough, too, that he can't make any promises about himself, especially if she keeps sliding along him like… _that_ …

Convulsively, he tightens his grip on her hips just a little, holding her still, breathing hard. Sara stops moving with a long sigh, giving him a look that promises payback.

Probably good payback. But still.

"Not here," he gasps. "After all this time, I damned well want to break in that damned bed."

Sara laughs, the sound sending a shiver—a satisfying shiver—up his spine, leaning forward again to put her mouth up against his ear.

"Leonard," she whispers in a low, rough tone, "do you really think this is only going to happen _once_?"

Oh, hell, that voice is doing things to him.

"Still want the bed," he manages, then shifts a little, trying to figure out how best to rise when his legs aren't particularly interested in holding him. Sara notices and, with another low laugh, gets to her feet in one graceful motion, then holds out a hand to him.

Pride may be one of his many sins, but not enough to keep him from accepting this help. Leonard stands, then uses his grip on Sara's hand to pull her close again, briefly considering what her reaction might be if he swings her up into his arms to carry her into the master bedroom, which is, blessedly, downstairs.

Sara, however, promptly solves his dilemma by stepping in close and effectively hooking one of her legs up and around his hip. His hands go almost involuntarily down to her bottom and with that leverage, she easily hops up, swinging her other leg around him.

"Bed," she tells him huskily. "Now."

"Your wish is my…" He stops mid-word as she wiggles against him again. "Sara, that's not helping my coordination!"

"Stop complaining and move it, Leonard."

* * *

For all his protests, Len carries her into the bedroom with alacrity and perfect steadiness, keeping eye contact with one hand tucked under her and the other at the small of her back. Sara watches through hooded eyes, smirking and behaving herself (mostly).

She feels more like herself than she has in months, and that combined with this long-awaited…assignation… has her quite giddy. She curves her hands around the back of Leonard's head, stroking the bristly, short hairs there, and leans forward to brush her lips down the line of his neck. If that happens to put other portions of anatomy in closer contact again, well…

Leonard growls, both hands tightening as he pauses, and for a moment, Sara closes her eyes and just enjoys the sensations. But then she yelps as he deposits her on the edge of the bed, glaring up at him with an expression of outraged betrayal.

"Hey!"

"Hey?" Leonard looks down at her, smirking, and altogether too smug for as unsettled as he was not that long again. " _Hey_? Is there a problem?"

"There sure as hell is. Get back down here." She shifts, planning to get to her knees and drag him back down to her, but he takes a step back, eluding her grasp, then steps forward again…going to his own knees.

Ahhhh. Sara sucks in a breath, then smirks, leaning back a little, to see what he'll do. "Len?" she drawls. "And what are you up to?"

He looks at her under his lashes, eyes raking over her body, coming to rest at her lacy black garter belt. "Sexy as hell, but that thing can't be comfortable."

"Not particularly," Sara acknowledges, shifting and watching him. "Wanna make it go away?"

"I could do that." Eyes on hers, he reaches up and tucks his fingertips, those marvelously sensitive thief's fingertips, into the edge of the belt, running them along as she lets out a noise and leans her head back, muttering imprecations at him. But instead of removing that garment, he moves his hands down instead, to where her nylons are secured.

Sara manages not to moan, barely, as he unclips one, then the other, fingers stroking intimately against her inner thighs as he does so—but then completely loses that restraint as he puts his mouth to the edge of the left nylon as he starts to roll it downward, following it with lips and tongue, gently tracing their way down the inside of her leg, right to the instep of her foot, desire growing within her with every lick, every kiss.

And then again with the right one.

By the time the second nylon is removed, she's leaning back and whispering curses at him, shifting her hips and trying to grab his shoulders and pull him down to kiss him. Len, smirking, stays out of her reach, though, instead hooking his fingers again into the top of her garter belt and panties. And then slowly, though not as slowly as he'd removed the stockings, he slips them off, hands caressing liberally as he does.

Sara has her eyes closed, leaning back on her arms, but she can feel where he's returned his mouth to the area right below her belly button, mouth warm and insistent, moving south. She wants him now, but she's not a masochist…and oh, damn, she thinks, this is going to be _good_.

She's not wrong.

When her vision starts to blur at the edges, and then goes white minutes later, as she repeats his name in a voice she's all too aware is utterly unhinged with desire.

It takes a few moments to fully come back to herself, a time during which Sara distantly hears a self-satisfied chuckle, then feels the bed shift as a warm, solid weight settles next to her.

"I hate you," she informs him, without opening her eyes.

"No, you don't." His voice is a purr, and altogether too smug.

"Yes, I do." Sara opens an eye and regards him. "We could have been doing this for _months_."

But she's miscalculated, and her words cause a completely unintentional flicker of…hurt?...in his eyes, one that immediately has her grasping for a way to explain, moving her body up along his and on top of him and trying to convey her feelings with body language.

"I'm sorry about the waiting," he starts, but she's holding a finger to his lips, staring into his eyes, trying to put her thoughts in her gaze.

"No," she tells him forcefully. "Not what I meant. I mean…in a different situation, if we were different people, in a different place…"

"Then we wouldn't be us."

True, that. Sara feels a smile, a real smile, tugging at her lips as she regards him, as that smirk drifts back to his face…and as she suddenly recalls that maybe all she's wearing right now is a bra, but he's still wearing far too much clothing.

"Off," she tells him seriously, shifting again, reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt and tugging on it. "And the pants. _Now_."

His eyebrows rise and he smirks even more. "You still have clothing."

"Not…" But the silvery satin undergarment falls off her even as she speaks and she fixes her crook with a _look_ even as he gives her an innocent look that doesn't seem remotely convincing—especially because he moves his hand down her back and lower even as she mock-glares at him.

"Len…" she threatens, moving a hand to the front of his pants and drawing a very satisfactory hiss as he involuntarily reacts to the touch. "Get naked."

"Bossy," he mutters, but then partly sits up, pulling his T-shirt over his head and throwing it…somewhere. She doesn't really care, not as long as she can run her hands over his bare chest and go to work on the button of his pants, even as he starts tugging impatiently at them himself.

His fingers don't seem to be cooperating. Sara can't help giggling—damnit, she doesn't usually giggle—at his profanity as she helps, working the button and then sliding them and his underwear down, getting a very nice, long feel in as she does so. Turnabout is fair pay, after all. And he sure as hell doesn't seem to mind.

Instead, as soon as they're gone, he wraps an arm around her and just…moves…drawing a gasp from Sara's throat and arranging them so she's on her back and he's over her, smirking, warm and solid and smug. Sara blinks at him, then glares, but the expression soon fades into a smirk as she arranges her hands again, drawing an _interesting_ noise from him.

"Well, this is nice," she purrs. "This could feel _very_ nice."

Leonard, regaining his equilibrium, smirks at her again. "I sure as hell hope so," he purrs, moving his hips just a little. "What do you want, Sara?"

Oh, crap, the way he says her name. Sara closes her eyes a moment, considering. Then: "You," she says, "I just want you."

And then, because she feels the need to remind him who she is, she wraps her legs around his waist and flips them, landing him on his back and her over him

"This OK?" she asks quietly, stifling a groan herself as he presses against her. "I…hell. Len, I want you. But is it OK? What do _you_ want?"

His eyes are dark and direct, staring up at her. His hands, those lovely, talented hands, move up to grip her hips again, holding her steady above him, so close…

"You," he breathes. "You."

That's all she needs. Sara sinks down onto him with a moan, moving, moving, as he moves too, gasping and grip tightening and….

And then neither one of them is really thinking much anymore, lost in sensation, together.

When the world explodes around them and then, gradually, returns, they're still there together, skin against warm, damp skin, and Leonard's breathing raggedly, but it's a good ragged. Sara sags against him, smiling against his neck, and his arms move from her hips to around her shoulders.

"Damn, that was good," she murmurs.

She can feel Leonard's smile against her hair as his arms tighten around her

"Damn right," he murmurs. "Damn right."


	9. That I'm in Love With You

Author's note: OK, OK, I'll admit it. This will be 12 chapters-well, 11 and an epilogue.

With thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta and Pir8grl for the idea of Leonard reading to Sara. ;)

* * *

Thus begins one of the strangest times in Sara Lance's life.

On one hand, she's still stuck in the 1950s. She misses her sister, her parents, her comrades. She chafes at the restrictions so often imposed on women at the time. (And regularly wants to slug people because of all the condescension and sexism she hears.) Even the TV shows often infuriate her, there's not as much access to information as she's used to, and she'd altogether like carteblanchetobeat someone up a little more often.

But, on the other hand...

The situation isn't normal. She knows that. But her life hasn't been normal since the Gambit, and in the scale of her experiences…well, this isn't so bad.

In fact, at times, it's pretty _damned_ good.

* * *

This new chapter in her life starts with yet another morning that could have been incredibly awkward...but isn't.

It isn't at all.

She wakes in Len's arms, the once so touch-shy crook wrapped around her like she's going to leave if he lets go. But she doesn't want to leave, maybe at all, maybe she'll just stay here all day, for the foreseeable future anyway...

But that's not realistic. There are still too many things to do, to figure out. And that's good, that's fine, that's what's keeping her going here in this time. But right here and now, she just wants to luxuriate in this feeling a moment, the sensation of being wrapped up in someone else, of a long-standing attraction finally reaching a culmination, or...she thinks, a new beginning.

And she does. She's not entirely sure how long she lies there, warm and content, dozing and watching the light level change though the crack in the curtains. But eventually, she hears Len's breathing alter and tilts her head back to watch his face, smiling a bit as those totally unfair lashes flicker, just a little, before his eyes open, focusing, after a moment, on her.

"Morning," Sara whispers, watching how his irises change color from blue to green and back in the light.

"Mmm. Morning." His voice is rough, just a bit. Len tilts his head a little, opening and closing his eyes, and Sara has the sudden inescapable feeling that he's not at all used to waking up next to someone. She waits, watching, as he acclimates, then smiles as his gaze flicks back to hers again and his fingers flex, gently, at her bare hip.

There's something very tentative and guarded in his eyes, though, and she realizes suddenly that he's looking for regrets, for some form of second thoughts. The idea hurts Sara's heart, a little, the realization that although she'd expressed just how much she'd wanted what they'd done together, he was still so wary. But they both have their damages.

And she's resolved, at this point, to work on undoing this aspect of his.

Instead of using words, she stretches slowly, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck, smiling at him in a way that she hopes conveys just how pleased she is with any and all of the decisions she'd made last night. Len's lips twitch as she presses against him (OK, other portions of his anatomy do, too), the guardedness fleeing and his gaze warming as he holds her.

"Sleep well?" he asks in a low tone.

"Yeah. Really well." She stretches again, grinning as he groans. "Best I have in a while. I missed having some space to stretch. Even if you do tend to steal the covers."

"I do not…" She watches as he takes note of their circumstances, including where the covers are—draping him and just a very small portion of Sara. "Ah."

She can't help a slight smirk. "It's OK. You kept me warm."

At that (and her tone), his eyelids go to half-mast again as he gives her one of those Snart _looks_. "Warm?" he drawls, fingers drifting up a little, stroking toward her spine. "Me? Perish the thought."

"Yes, you, jerk." Sara hums with amusement at his chuckle, arching her back a little as those clever fingertips trace her backbone. This also has the amusing result of moving her chest—which had been _so_ sadly neglected last night in their hurry to consummate things—up and against him, and she doesn't miss the noise he makes as it does so. "Nice and warm. Yes, I know those are two things you deny being..."

"Mmmmmm…" The fingertips pause, then drift, moving across her side in a caress that manages to be arousing and not tickling. Or maybe she's just predisposed to the former, right now. "Nice? Are you sure you want me to be… _nice_?"

Sara's smirk grows as she experimentally moves a leg, pressing against him. "Define 'nice.' "

The move draws a growl from his throat, and Len ducks his head to brush his lips along her jawbone, a kiss that also comes with the faint scrape of teeth. " 'Well done,' " he whispers into her ear, then moves his lips down to her neck. " 'Kind.' " To her collarbone. " 'Respectable.' " To her shoulder. " ' _Pleasing_ …'"

"Only…you could… _ahhhh_ …make vocabulary hot…Len…"

It's a good way to start a new chapter.

* * *

By the time they make their way over to the other house, it's later than Sara's pretty sure either one of them planned. And she's also pretty sure she's embodying every stereotype of "just got laid" that exists—from the smile on her face (it just won't go away) to her state of relaxation, to the way her hair, no matter how much she tries to tame it in a way acceptable to 1958, just won't behave.

Len, of course, is as cool and collected as always—or at least, he looks it. He smirks at a semi-dressed Sara as she grumbles at her hair, casually tossing a hat from hand to hand, only to jump just a little as she knocks it to the ground. She perches the hat on her own head, watching through hooded eyes as he pauses in trying to reclaim it, and things could so very easily have wound up with both of them tumbled back in bed together…

But they behave. For now.

Ginny, who's sitting at the dining room table with Rebecca and Dorothea when the couple enters the house, raises her eyebrows nearly immediately, looking from one to the other with an expression of dawning glee. But she doesn't blurt anything out—at least, not at the moment. Rebecca seems oblivious, caught up in her own worries, but Doro also eyes them and shakes her head, smiling, even as she declines to comment.

"Thank you," though, she does say, almost formally, to both Sara and Leonard as she rises to her feet. "I apologize for my lapse last night, Mr… Leonard. Sincerely, I do. I wasn't…"

The woman's voice trails off as her expression closes. In some ways, Doro might actually be the easiest around Leonard…she was the first to use his given name, after being assured that he prefers it…but she sometimes steps back and falls into the habits of a survivor, the reflexes of a brown-skinned woman trying to make her way and her children's in a world that's hostile to them in so many ways. And while she might trust them...she knows better than to let that trust go too far.

Leonard steps toward her, but not too close, Sara notices.

"Stress gets to people," he tells her gently. "It's OK."

Dorothea studies him a moment, then glances at Sara for some reason. Sara does her best to look supportive and understanding. She knows that she _can't_ know, not really, both as a white woman and a person from 2016, what the other woman's road has been like. Keeping her mouth shut seems like the best thing to do.

Then Dorothea nods, just a little, and motions toward Rebecca and Ginny.

"They say you want to sit down and have a bit of a talk about what's next. I don't know that I have much I can add," she says carefully. "I...if I get involved in any trouble...well. It's best I don't."

But Leonard's already nodding in understanding, and a look of relief crosses her features as she sees it. Doro sets her shoulders and nods again

"I'll just go keep an eye on the children. I'm sure the girls are keeping young Mr. Jacobi hopping," she says, amusement entering her tone. "Or at least reading the same book for the 10th time in a row."

Rebecca stands, hesitates, and then leans over to give the other woman a hug, a gesture that makes Dorothea pause. "Thank you," she says quietly, then adds something Sara can't hear. Ginny bounds to her feet and throws her arms around both of them, squeezing, and Dorothea actually chuckles a little at the younger woman's enthusiasm before disentangling herself and heading for the stairs, raising her voice a little to let the house's younger residents know she's on her way.

Rebecca sits neatly back down, but Ginny turns to them, grinning, although she again stops short before saying anything. (Sara decides Rebecca must have kicked her under the table.) Finally, she sits too, folding her hands and giving Rebecca a look that says, plainly, "Look! I can behave!"

Sara, amused even she feels…old, yes, definitely old…shakes her head as she heads to the kitchen. She's become used to making coffee with a percolator, but from the scent of things, someone already has.

Ahhh, yes. She pours a cup for herself and Leonard, asking the other two if they want any and getting polite demurrals. Ginny continues sitting almost at attention, but a bit of worry has entered her expression, stress and even a touch of fear. Rebecca reaches out and pats her hand, and Ginny grabs her fingers like a lifeline, not letting go.

Len's seated himself sort of across from them, long legs stretched out in front of him and regret in his eyes. She knows he doesn't like making them uncomfortable, but this is a conversation they need to have. And they all know it.

Sara sits next to him, sliding a coffee over, and he sits up to take it, letting his fingers brush hers in a definite caress. Ginny, she sees, notes it and smiles again, and at least there's that.

But it's time to talk about other things now.

"You OK?" Sara asks Ginny gently, not entirely referring to her arm.

The other woman swallows hard, but nods. "Little sore, but OK," she confirms. "He…he scared me. I thought he was gonna…" She turns her head to regard Rebecca. "…well. Thought he'd hurt someone else." Anger sparks again, the embers of the bonfire Sara had seen last night. "Ain't letting him do that again. I'm _not_." Her eyes dart back to Sara's. "What you did, it was amazing. An' you made it look so easy. Teach me more! Please?"

Sara opens her mouth, then closes it, glancing at Leonard, who sips his coffee, eyes calm.

She nods, then. How can she not?

"I will," she confirms. "But we…have to talk about some other things, first."

They'd talked about this, this morning, getting dressed, trying to keep their minds on the trials still ahead of them instead of the alluring distractions posed by each other and all the possible pleasures thereof. It had, somewhat, worked.

Somewhat.

Sara drags her mind away from that (and the knowing sparkle in Len's eyes as he watches her) and looks back at Ginny, who's watching her steadily.

"First, and I can't believe I didn't ask about this before, if there any chance he could come back here with a gun?" she asks. "Wayne? Could he do that? Would he?"

Ginny opens her mouth, then closes it, looking a bit surprised.

"Well...I mean, he has them," she says haltingly. "But...he won't. At least, I don't think he will." She lets go of Rebecca, then picks up her hands, turning them over as if to study them "Look, to do that, he'd have to admit that a bunch of...of women are a threat. One he needs firepower to deal with. And he won't do that. At least, not yet."

It's a very astute observation, and Sara nods to the other woman, impressed. "Even with what I did?"

Ginny snorts, giving her a world-weary look.

"Honey, by the time he was to the end of the block, I'll bet he convinced himself that it was a fluke," she tells Sara. "You know...he slipped. You got lucky. 'Cause how could a little thing like you take down a big ol' tough man like him?" She shrugs. "Now, if...when...it happens again...I dunno."

"Eventually he'd have to start seeing me as a threat," Sara murmurs. "And that could up the ante. Better if that doesn't happen." Sure, she can take out some yoyo with a gun. But unless she simply kills him—something she's trying to avoid—escalation just means more chance of others getting hurt.

Leonard leans forward again, then. "What if I paid him off?" he says suddenly. "I could do it." He gives the women an apologetic shrug as they look at him. "If he sees you as his property...would that do it?"

But Ginny's shaking her head almost violently at his words, her hands on fists on the table. "No. No, no," she says. "That'd be like...still like you were taking something that's his, even if you threw some cash at him afterward. That'd be an insult. Even more of an insult. That would be _bad_."

Leonard sits back with an annoyed _hmmph_ , though it's not directed at Ginny. Sara, sensing his annoyance with that kind of alpha male posturing, bumps his knee with hers, continuing to consider the matter.

"Then..." Rebecca muses aloud, "...what would make him think he just, well, doesn't want you anymore?" She gives the other woman a worried look. "I can't imagine why he'd ever decide _that_."

The words come out more openly affectionate than Sara thinks Rebecca intended, and the woman's face flares scarlet a moment later as she realizes it. Sara hides a grin, and hears Len's nearly imperceptible huff of laughter, but Ginny just leans over and bumps Rebecca's shoulder affectionately with hers, not unlike that way Sara had interacted with Leonard just a moment ago.

"You," she tells the other woman, "are the sweetest. But I don't think it's like that. Not anymore." She nibbles on her lip, casually reaching out to take Rebecca's hand again. (Sara's grin grows just a little wider.) "I mean...now I think it's all for appearances' sake. His wife runs off, people are gonna be asking why." She shrugs. "Maybe if we give him a reason he _really_ doesn't want me around? I think he still thinks he can cow me and it'll be back to the usual. Jus'...well, rougher."

Sara shudders at that, and she doesn't miss how Len tenses next to her. But it's Rebecca who suddenly looks thoughtful.

"Then you have to show him that it really won't," she says. "Be the same. I mean, you say he'll think it's a fluke that Miss Nyssen...Sara...knocked him down. What if you did it? More than once? Let him see he'll have to...to deal with a Virginia who's not taking his...his nonsense...ever again. He won't like the appearances of that, will he?"

Ginny stares at her, then looks at Sara, whose eyes are narrowed in thought.

"If he thought you could do that, he wouldn't want you back, right?" she says slowly. "Too much chance of you embarrassing him. And he wouldn't want anyone to know. And like you've said—rural communities, _everyone_ knows."

"Yeah, they didn't care he was beatin' me, but, boy, will the hens cluck if I was able to return the favor." Ginny sounds jaded far beyond her years. "I mean...I don' really want to hurt anyone, not even him, but if I just showed I _could_..."

Sara's nodding back at her now. "He's big, but there's no finesse there," she tells the other woman. "And no imagination. You're tough, you're smart, you could learn. It wouldn't be like the few tricks I've shown you so far, though. It'd be real training. You want to do this?"

Ginny bites her lip, then, glancing downward. The others wait, in silence as she considers.

In a way, this is how heroes are born, Sara thinks. This thought of "If I don't do something, they're going to hurt people." No matter who "they" is—and there's always a "they."

Sometimes it's an enemy. Sometimes it's a friend. Sometimes it's even someone you used to love.

Sara waits, watching her, and although she doesn't look at Leonard, she suspects he knows the import and the impact of this moment too. He's still coming to grips with the notion of being a hero himself—or at the very least, certainly not a villain—and she's seen how his choices in this time have shown the man he could have been from the beginning. A hero? Well, she thinks so.

The rest is up to him.

But this is Ginny's choice, and Ginny's moment, and after only a minute or so, the young woman nods decisively.

"I'll do it," she announces, looking determined. "Or I'll try."

"There is no try," Leonard tells her solemnly, even as Sara elbows him, having anticipated his words. Ginny blinks at him, but then shrugs, giving Sara a look of anticipation.

"Can we start now?" she asks eagerly.

Sara laughs a little, holding up her hands. "Give me a day! I have some thoughts, but I want to practice a few things." She leans back in her chair and gives Len an arch look. "You OK playing practice dummy? She needs to be able to take on someone bigger…"

He gives her a look right back. "As long as I get to wear some protective gear. You don't want…me…damaged, do you?"

The innuendo is thick in his tone, probably a little too thick for polite company in 1958. But while Rebecca goes a little red, she giggles, and Ginny actually claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, although her eyes dance.

"Sara would never forgive me," she manages after a moment, trying to keep a straight face.

Leonard's lips twitch, but he otherwise keeps a straight face, too, and then smoothly changes the subject. "After you mentioned that you were worried that Wayne was actually staying in the city, I did some research. That's not the case, anyway. Seems like he just gets nerve up to come looking for you every few weeks."

Ginny nods. "Probably when his brothers visit to help out a bit. They...they egg him on." A shadow crosses her face and Sara bites back the urge to go track down the Travers farm. "I...he was so mad this time, I wonder if he'll be back sooner."

"Then we'll get to it," Sara tells him, pushing back her chair. "Tomorrow morning, bright and early." She gives the other woman a serious look. "A warrior trains every day."

Ginny gulps, looking at Rebecca, then back at Sara. "Me? A warrior?" Her voice holds a slightly uncertain mix of trepidation and pride.

Sara smiles at her, thinking about the bravery it must take to make this decision, in this time. "Gin, you're already a warrior. This will just make it a little more official."

* * *

Sara decides on a modified form of Krav Maga—modified, because they don't really want to kill or maim the man, or so she tells herself—with some elements of aikido, teaching her pupil to use an attacker's strength against him. She rousts the other woman out of her bed earlier the next morning than both of them would really like, taking advantage of some spring warmth outside and leading Ginny through some stretching exercises she'd already learned before starting to teach her the first offensive techniques.

Leonard beats a hasty retreat to his office when Sara starts talking about the most effective way to use a knee, making both women laugh, but for the most part, they're pretty serious. Ginny's uncertain about actually trying to hit her trainer and Sara knows they're going to have to work at that, but all in all, it's not a bad first training session. There's some instinctive grace there, and no little motivation.

"You're teaching who what?" Kendra's voice is amused when Sara talks to her later, sitting in the office, her feet curled underneath her in the desk chair.

Sara, knowing perfectly well her friend had heard her, just chuckles, toying with the phone cord. "I know, I know, it's not quite…normal for the '50s, but…Kendra, we have to do _something_. And it's giving her some agency back; you should see the change." She thinks back about earlier. "You know, I think she's going to be quite good. Maybe we can start a trend: the first women's self-defense studio in the United States. I don't think it's a thing yet, at all."

Kendra makes a low _hmmmm_ of thought. Sara, sensing hesitation, frowns, but waits.

"Do you ever wonder what sort of impact we're having on the future?" Kendra says finally. "If we should be being more careful?"

Sara snorts. "Well, then maybe they should have come back for us sooner." She ignores the possibility that maybe they can't. "We're surviving however we can."

Kendra sighs. "I know, but…Ray's trying to avoid leaking advanced science stuff in his classes, but…you know Ray. And you two are…with what you're up to." Another sigh, but Sara can hear her purposefully lighten her tone. "Me...I don't think I'm changing anything with boredom and baked goods, but I guess you never know."

Sara can't help feeling a pang of guilt. She's not foolish enough to think she could have really stayed in Nickel City without some sort of meaningful occupation—but Kendra is her friend, one of her few links to home, and she's abandoned her.

"I know Len's planning to go to Gotham soon; I'll meet you there," she says suddenly. "OK? We'll call Kathy first, set...something...up. Go out and kick some ass."

"That sounds great." Kendra pauses. "Oh. ' _Len_?' Really?"

"Hmm." Sara can't quite decide how to play this. But after a moment, her friend just laughs.

"You sound happy, Sara," she says quietly. "I can't say I'm not surprised. The crook? Really? But I could see the sparks, before. And I…I'm not the sort that says people can't change, or that sometimes they don't have to do things they'd prefer not to to survive. I mean…I used to be a barista. And then there was Savage…and Carter…"

Sara isn't sure what to say for a moment. "Are you…OK? Do you want me to…"

But Kendra immediately demurs. "No! Really. I'm OK." She laughs again, a quiet chuckle that nonetheless sounds sincere. "I'm happy with Ray. I'm just...a little bored. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to be Hawkgirl again."

Sara, who still considers herself White Canary, just with a different set of people to protect, feels another pang of guilt. "The beacon...?"

"Still working. Still waiting."

* * *

Teaching suits Sara.

As the days go on, Leonard can't help but linger, watching, as Sara works with Ginny either in the backyard of 19 Gabriel Drive or in the small studio in their own house. He's seen her fight all out, throwing herself and all those formidable skills at enemies, kicking ass without hesitation, like the tempered human weapon she can be, and it's a beautiful thing.

This is different. This is all that passion and fire harnessed, turned to a focus that's more confined, but no less formidable. It's also no less beautiful, he thinks, watching her adjust Ginny's stance a little, patiently explaining the move they're working on and then demonstrating it slowly, then faster, then faster yet, poetry in motion, flickering to a stop and motioning to the other woman to try it.

Ginny nods, looking determined, then slowly copies her. Then faster. Faster, laughing out loud suddenly as something clicks, and then unexpectedly combining it with another move, a side kick, doing precisely what Leonard's pretty sure she's supposed to, careful practice taking the first steps toward becoming instinct.

Sara's smiling, one of the happiest looks he's ever seen on her, aware of the same thing he is, and then glances up and sees him watching. The smile grows, her eyes sparkling, and Len grins back, aware more than ever before that there's no way he's ever going to be able to fool her again, not after their nights together, not after this...

He's in love with Sara Lance.

The thought, without warning, hits him like a bullet, actually startling a tiny, nearly imperceptible noise from his lips. Sara's already looking back at Ginny and doesn't see it, doesn't hear it, and Len takes a step back, out of view, digesting this startling epiphany.

It's not like he hadn't know he was headed there, maybe even that he _was_ there. But he's shied away from putting it into words or even concrete thought. The cynic in him wants to chalk it up to time drift, but he knows, deep down, that's not true. The potential was there even before they got stuck here together, long before they'd kissed or shared a bed or a home or long, satisfying nights together. It's just had time and room to grow.

He's in love with Sara Lance.

And he has no idea what to do with that realization.

So he just sort of tucks it away for a bit. For now.

* * *

Neither of them feels comfortable leaving for a sojourn to Gotham until the Wayne issue is dealt with, so Dorothea and the girls are sticking around just a little longer. Sara finds she enjoys spending time with the twins, doing her best to instill some (realistic for the time) feminism, showing Ann some of the basic first aid she'd learned with the League, encouraging the girl's ambitions.

She tries to encourage Ama, too, but the other girl is steadfast that she's not interested in "all that schooling stuff." Still, she only makes the mistake of calling her sister "the smart one" once in Sara's hearing.

"Don't say that," Sara tells her immediately, thinking of all the times she and Laurel had been pigeonholed into "the good one" and "the wild one." "You're just as smart. It's not wrong to want different things."

The look Ama gives her is skeptical, but the girl nods, looking over to where her sister is sitting and quietly playing with dolls. (Using rags to practice bandaging, actually, Sara notices with amusement.)

"You got a sister?" she asks after a moment, in a tone that suggests she's already guessed the answer.

"I do," Sara confirms. "An older one. Her name is Laurel."

"That's a pretty name." Ama shrugs. "It's OK. I don't mind being not being 'the smart one.' That way, it surprises people more when you do something smart." She pauses as Sara reflects on the wisdom of that comment. "You gonna marry Mr. Wynters? My mom says you should."

Sara's been getting reaccustomed to the way talking to small children can give one whiplash, but this makes her blink. "I...what?"

The girl gives a surprisingly adult snort. "She told Miss Schuyler that maybe you're married to someone else, one of you, because you're not married to each other. But you live in the same house and you're..." Her voice takes on a tone that's clearly mimicking her mother. "... defin'etly sleeping together."

She pauses, then. "Miss Nyssen, I don't get it. What does sleeping got to do with being married?"

Sara opens her mouth. Closes it. That, she decides, isn't something she's willing to touch.

"Neither one of us is married to someone else," she says instead. "We just...have a lot of things to do right now."

Ama looks unconvinced. But to Sara's relief, that's the end of that particular conversation.

* * *

Even with the days given to training, helping watch the kids and run Wynters Security Systems, and just the basic stuff of life—Len and Sara share most of the household upkeep, including cooking and laundry, but it takes far more time than typical in 2016—Sara finds the evenings getting long.

Sometimes she'll play board games over at 19 Gabriel Drive (and enjoy the conversation of other women), but sometimes the self-editing necessary for even forward-thinking ladies of 1958 gets old. She'll chat with Kendra on the telephone, but Kendra also has a life of her own, and evenings are when Ray is most likely to be home.

With a few exceptions, the television shows of the time don't appeal at all. And while her relationship—whatever they're calling it, or not calling it—with Leonard now provides any number of satisfying physical distractions, they can't spend all their time in bed.

They still play cards, of course, like they'd started on the ship what seems like forever ago, but sometimes Sara's just not feeling it.

She's lying on the sofa, one evening about two weeks after she starts training Ginny, studying the ceiling and trying not to think about the myriad of things she doesn't want to think about, when Len emerges from the office, where he'd been tinkering with what might be a prototype security camera. Sara glances at him, smiling a little as he holds up their deck of cards and waves it a little in invitation.

"Even Go Fish requires more brainpower than I want to use right now," she sighs. "I miss Netflix. I just want to curl up and...escape a little. Is that so much to ask?"

Leonard considers her a moment, thoughtfully, then turns aside, sauntering over to the bookshelf where they've slowly been building up a collection—albeit him more than Sara. She watches, tilting her head, as he studies the row of books, then selects one and moves back toward her.

Sara moves her bare feet just long enough for him to sit down, plopping them back down in his lap after he does. Len lifts an eyebrow at her, then opens the book, paging through a bit before selecting a spot—and starting to read out loud.

"When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced," he reads, in that low, thoughtful tone, devoid of drawl, that she likes so much, "that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday..."

Sara's eyes dart to his face. "Seriously?"

"Should I pick something different?"

"No...I've never read it." She snickers at the not-entirely-mock look of horror on his face. "I saw the movies, though."

"That's appalling."

"Stop being judgy and read, Len." Sara leans back against the throw pillows with a contented sigh and closes her eyes to listen to that smoky voice continue the tale of hobbits and quests and elves and kings.

* * *

They actually get a little more time than expected before Ginny's ex-husband rears his ugly head again. Still, Sara personally wouldn't have minded even more.

It's not that Ginny hasn't taken to the intensive lessons in self-defense. She has, to a degree that's actually been a bit startling to Sara. She's a natural, in many ways, probably more than that girl on the Gambit was so long ago. And she's more than ready to take on a big-but-unimaginative opponent and show him that she's no longer someone who has to take his garbage.

Physically, anyway.

Sara's just not sure if, despite that decision weeks ago now, Ginny's truly ready for what it will be like to face down someone she once loved, or at least cared for in some capacity, and—without putting too fine a point on it—to hurt them until they agree to stop hurting her. But it may be that the only way to find out is simply to do it.

And so it proves.

One day less than three weeks after the last time Wayne showed up seeking trouble, Sara hears the squeal of tires outside, and the familiar roar of a truck engine that's seen better days. Even before the first bellow, she's yelled for Len, who's upstairs, and headed for the door, then remembers the plan and detours for the rear entrance, out into their backyard, which is fairly empty. However, a few trees screen it from the front, providing a decent and semi-concealed vantage point.

The man sits in his truck a moment this time, staring at the other house, and Sara enjoys a brief feeling of satisfaction that she may have made him just a bit more reluctant to cause trouble. But it can't last, and in another moment, he's out, anger visible on his face even from there, stomping toward the building.

And then Ginny's there, on the side porch, watching him.

Sara feels more than sees a flicker of movement besides her vantage point, but she doesn't take her eyes off the scene. At least, not until a vaguely familiar metallic sound makes her glance over.

"Is that…a silencer?"

Len nods, a bit curtly, making sure the device is firmly attached to his handgun. He studies the scene before them, as Ginny starts down the stairs and her ex stops in his tracks, then nods again. Sara knows perfectly well he's good enough to make the shot.

"We both know that when she fights back, actually does it effectively, he might react very badly," he says quietly. "Even more violently. And I'm not going to let him kill her. Or anyone else." He glances at Sara, then. "But only if it goes south."

Sara studies him in return, then nods back. "Not the first body I've ever had to hide."

Leonard smirks at her. "Scary. I like it," he drawls, leaning on their habitual banter even at a rather fraught moment.

She smirks back…and then a sudden noise from the space between houses draws their attention back again.

"….no," Ginny is saying. "It's not ever happening, Wayne. I ain't goin' back, and you…you really don't want me to." Sara can see her lift her chin in determination. "I ain't the same person. I ain't gonna be your punchin' bag ever again."

The asshole stares at her a moment, then actually lets out a bark of laughter.

"C'mon, Virgie," he says, using a nickname that makes her visibly wince. "Enough drama. I don't care what kinda line these weird people been feedin' you. You're my wife. You belong wit' me."

But Ginny's shaking her head. "No. I don't. Move on with your life, Wayne. I ain't going back," she repeats. "Don't make me show you."

Another bark of laughter, but the edge of anger is audible. "Don' make me show _you_ ," he rumbles, menace in the tone. "I jus' taught you lessons you needed to learn. Looks like you need more."

He reaches for her arm, and…

And then he's on the ground, and Ginny is backing away, expression calmer than Sara ever would have believed possible. Hell, she wants to punch the air and cheer, but the other woman is remaining cool and almost professional.

"Leave, Wayne," she says. "I kin' keep doin' this."

The man stares up at her a moment, then clambers to his feet. His face is going red with rage, now, and Sara can see his hands balled up in fists. He hurls an epithet at her, then starts forward again. Sara, encouraged by how sloppy his movements are already, mutters to herself as if Ginny can hear, willing her to choose the right tactics.

She shouldn't have worried. As he drives his right fist toward Ginny's face, the woman moves aside, grabbing his hand and using his own momentum to power a throw, sending him sprawling into the driveway again. He lands badly, utterly stunned by the move, and Ginny backs away and watches patiently, waiting for him to rise.

They'd already discussed that she'd have to. Without multiple instances to stick in his memory, Wayne might have reacted the same way Ginny had predicted he'd react to Sara's earlier takedown—assuming it'd been a fluke, that he'd merely slipped or stumbled.

By the time the man struggles to his feet again, Sara's wondering if they might have to exert their body-disposal skills even without the use of Len's gun. Wayne Travers is so scarlet with rage that she's truly wondering if he's going to have a heart attack or stroke and keel over right there.

But he doesn't. Instead, he lunges again.

And falls. And lunges.

And falls.

Ginny seems almost disappointed that she hasn't had to use more of the skills Sara had taught her, and she doesn't back away quite as quickly after she topples him the fourth time. Wayne staggers to his feet again, staring at her like she's grown fangs, and Sara wonders if maybe the man will capitulate without actual bodily injury. Leonard hums next to her, thoughtfully, his gun having vanished again to whatever holster he's keeping it in.

But, no. Wayne grabs for her again and this time she lets him grasp her arms, making Sara tense and take a step forward…

But then, before he can make another move, Ginny drives her knee up, hard, and Wayne crumples with a strangled noise, hitting the ground like a bag of rocks, without even trying to catch himself. Sara doesn't even try to stifle her cheer this time, even as Len makes a faint noise of…well, not sympathy, but involuntary empathy, anyway.

As planned, they start moving slowly toward the scene now, just in case Ginny needs backup, keeping their distance, but getting close enough to hear more clearly.

Ginny waits a moment for her ex to be a little more aware of anything other than pain, then gets a little closer, just not close enough to be grabbed. She glances over toward them—Sara can see how carefully controlled her expression is—then back at the man on the ground.

Then she pulls a wad of bills out of...somewhere... and tosses it at him. It lands in the gravel next to his face, tough to miss. Sara glances at Len—Ginny doesn't have that kind of money—and sees a smile hovering around his lips as he watches. The business and all the stocks he's invested in here have paid off handsomely, she knows.

Then she smiles too. There are different kinds of heroes.

"I saved that up," Ginny's telling Wayne in a hard tone—lying through her teeth, but he doesn't know it. "Take it as...as compensation for your lost _property_. And I'll match it when you sign the divorce papers a lawyer'll be bringing you."

She takes a step closer, and the man actually...scuttles...back, away from her. Sara wants to cheer again.

"No one ever needs to know I kin kick your ass," Ginny's continuing. "You leave here, you never come back, maybe you find some other stupid young thing to marry and beat on." She shrugs. "You tell people I begged you to take me back and you refused. I don' care, and I'll never tell. I don' wanna go back there ever again. Just go away and you leave me be."

Then she takes a step back. And waits.

After a moment or two, Wayne Travers struggles to his feet. He stares at his wife—his ex-wife—like he's never seen her before. And then he backs away.

Sara notes, cynically, that he makes sure to take the money.

After a few steps, he turns and walks for the truck. There's no anger in his demeanor now, just a baffled confusion. And a finality, as he climbs in, and drives away.

Ginny watches him go, until the truck vanishes down the street, out of sight. Then Sara can see her shoulders sag, just a little, in apparent relief before she spins, looking at the house and then Sara and Len.

Sara takes a step forward, but then the door to No. 19 bangs shut and Rebecca's moved out onto the porch, pausing before hurrying down the steps and out onto the driveway before hesitating again.

Ginny doesn't hesitate. She laughs out loud, a happy, free sound, then runs for the other woman, throwing her arms around Rebecca's shoulders and kissing her soundly on the mouth before spinning her around, letting go, and dashing toward Sara and Leonard.

Sara sees Rebecca, looking startled, raise a hand to her lips just before Ginny nearly tackles her.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she chants, spinning Sara around too and then letting go to fling her arms around a bemused Leonard. "Oh, I can't believe I _did_ that!"

Len pats her on the back just a bit awkwardly as Sara grins at him. "He could still be back..."

"I don' think so. I could tell." Ginny lets go of Leonard as Rebecca joins them and Dorothea comes out on the porch to take in the scene. "Oh, that was somethin!" She nods to Sara. "I want to learn more. And I want to teach people..."

Sara holds up her hands, laughing. "OK! OK! We'll see what we can do."

But then Ginny's turned away again, hugging Dorothea and then Rebecca again, and it seems that maybe it's time for a celebration.

Tomorrow and all its victories and problems can wait.


	10. Your Heart's My Valentine

Stephen Jimerson, the handsome young lawyer Len had recruited to work with Rebecca's little unofficial shelter serves Wayne Travers with divorce papers the next day. The man signs them without protest or fanfare, he reports as he drops by the house to get Ginny's signatures and check on some legal matters later, allowing himself to be lured with lunch and pie for dessert by Ginny and Rebecca, who've taken a liking to him.

A very platonic liking, Sara notes with amusement, watching as the lawyer studies her as Leonard introduces her, then studies Leonard thoughtfully as the other man turns away. Then he shrugs, giving Sara a slightly regretful half-smile, and returning to his pie and a discussion of zoning laws with Ginny, who still wants those damned chickens.

Sara follows Leonard out onto the porch as he heads back to the house to get some business paperwork, bumping his shoulder with her own.

"That man _likes_ you," she comments. "That why he's doing this?"

Len chuckles a little, but he doesn't deny the first part of the statement. "No, he's doing this because his father threw him out of the house when he was 13 after catching him kissing his male best friend," he notes, unlocking the door to their house, "and then beat the crap out of his mom when he caught her sneaking him food and money. Only reason he survived, let alone made it through law school, was a sympathetic aunt who took him in."

Sara makes a considering noise, then chuckles herself, smiling at Leonard when he glances at her. "We've got our own little 1958 Legends in the making," she points out. "Other people's rejects, thriving anyway, trying to make the future better."

He makes a slightly disparaging noise as he heads into the office. But Sara, recognizing the Snart head tilt of consideration, leans against the kitchen counter and waits, smirking to herself.

When he emerges, papers in hand, and they head back to the other house, he finally speaks again.

"I'm better looking than Hunter."

"You're a better planner, too."

"Well...that goes without saying."

* * *

While the fallout from the final (for it does, indeed, wind up being final) Wayne incident is mostly good, there is one unintended issue.

Sara becomes aware of it mostly by accident a day or so later, as she enters No. 19 looking for a book Ginny had borrowed. She heads for the downstairs sitting room, where she knows the woman had been reading it, only to slow as she hears a voice belonging to one of the only two males likely to be in this place at this particular time.

"...I don't want to be like that."

David sounds upset, and Sara halts in her tracks, listening and trying to decide if she should interrupt.

The boy should, strictly speaking, be in school, but Miriam was terrified her husband could use that to find them, and they've sort of banded together to give him a rather eclectic education in the interim. He loves to read, which helps, and Sara knows it's led to some bonding with Leonard. Not that it would have taken much anyway, considering that the boy has latched onto the older man as a role model in a way that unnerves Len to no end.

"What makes you think you will be?" Sara nods to herself, hearing Leonard's voice, glad that she won't have to step in. David remains slightly alarmed by her, although he's relaxed a little as she's picked up a habit of teasing him rather like a little brother.

"Well," the boy says haltingly, "my dad..."

"You're not your dad." Leonard's voice is just a touch short, the words clipped, and Sara winces for his sake, knowing the memories this has to be stirring.

"And Mrs. Trav...Miss Hayes, her husband..."

"You're not him, either." Then Len makes what seems to be an effort to soften the tone. "You're a lot smarter, for one thing."

That gets a pause, and Sara can hear the scratch of a pencil across paper, the faint sound of pages turning.

"But...isn't that what I'm supposed to be like?" David says finally. "My dad? He used to...he used to be the nicest when he said I was a 'chip off the old block.' And he said he was...he was just making sure we did things the right way when he hit..."

The boy stops, then continues. "What if I'm like him even when I don't want to be?" he asks miserably. "What if I can't help it? What if I can't think of anything else to be?"

The silence is deafening, for a long moment, and Sara can nearly _see_ Leonard pondering how this has become part of his life. But then he speaks, voice low and intense, and Sara holds her breath to better hear the response.

"Don't be," he tells the boy. "You don't...you don't need to let the past define you. Be better. You're the only one who makes that decision."

"But...what if I _am_ just like my dad, and what if I hurt someone...?"

"Decide not to. Don't ever let anyone else tell you what you can be." Sara can hear him shift, set down something heavy, perhaps a book. "I made that mistake, a long time ago, assumed I couldn't be anything more than...what my dad was, just more so. I was wrong. Remember..."

Sara takes a step back silently, deciding that she's eavesdropped enough, then retreats, back out through the kitchen and the parlor, out onto the porch and back to their house. She's pretty sure Len hears her anyway—she's the assassin, but he's the crook, after all—but he doesn't follow quite yet, and she decides to pass the time by starting dinner and digesting what she's heard.

There's a chicken roasting in the oven and Sara has a neat pile of peeled, chopped carrots at hand by the time she hears the door open. She waits a moment, then turns, dropping her knife onto the vegetables and turning to study him.

Leonard crosses the kitchen toward her with a wary gaze that says more than any words that he knows perfectly well that she'd heard him. Sara tilts her head, watching him in return as he draws near.

"Leonard Snart," she says lightly. "Fighting 1950s toxic masculinity. I'm proud of you."

Len's lips twitch as he regards her, but then he shakes his head in what seems to be mingled amusement and resignation.

"Barry Allen," he says with a sigh, leaning against the counter, "would be insufferable."

"Hmmm." Sara, considering him, decides the best way to play things, right now, is to lighten them up. She turns to face him, leaning back against the counter herself, and reaches out to run her fingers down the lapel of his jacket, slowly and caressingly, giving him a rather sultry smile. "And what's it worth to you for me to keep quiet about it?"

She's pretty sure Leonard knows precisely what she's trying to do here, but that doesn't mean he doesn't bite.

"I don't know," he murmurs, stepping closer, curving a hand around her waist, putting their bodies flush against each other. "What do you _want_?"

There's only one really good answer to that.

It's been the answer to a lot of things, lately, and Sara sees no need to apologize for that.

The sex is fabulous, which isn't precisely a surprise. She's always suspected it would be. They're very well matched, in so many ways, and the heat between them needs very little encouragement to explode into an inferno. A _very_ satisfying inferno.

Well. Multiple very satisfying infernos.

They're lying in bed after one such blaze, Len stretched out partly on top of Sara, his face somewhat buried in her collarbone, her lips brushing his recently shorn hair, their arms loosely around each other. She's thoroughly relaxed after said inferno, enjoying his solid weight, fingertips running up and down over the line of his spine, tracing the thin sheen of sweat there.

She'd like nothing more than to stay so relaxed, at least up until another inferno. But…

"We need to talk."

After a moment, Len tilts his head back a little, eyes hooded in that so-sexy way, studying her.

"Those are never good words," he says after another moment.

Sara smirks a little, reaching out to run her fingers down his back again, drawing a low groan as he twitches against her.

"Nothing you don't know about," she says finally. "I hear _all_ of Rip's Legends got certain benefits from the medbay. Benefits that may now be wearing off?"

She's distracted, momentarily, by the feel of Leonard's lips brushing her collarbone.

"Ah. Yes," he says finally, head tilted up to watch her again. "I was going to bring that up, but frankly I'd hoped the other version of Gideon's magic shots lasted longer."

"Sadly, no." Sara traces his spine again, enjoying the sound he makes. "They're still _probably_ good a while longer—but it's not a certain thing anymore after that time frame." She pauses, fingertips stilling. "I'm not really good with 'probably'. I mean...after the Pit, I'm not even sure anything _could_ happen, but..." She sighs. "My body was messed up for a long time, which is probably good given what it was like, but I don't _know_."

"Mmmm." Those hooded eyes watch her, then he nods and pulls away.

Sara makes a vaguely disconsolate noise as his warmth leaves her, hands grabbing for him, then subsides grumpily into the blankets, waiting for him to return.

She does enjoy the sight of a stark-naked Leonard crossing their bedroom to the closet, though, letting her gaze wander from those impressive shoulders to that very nice ass as he considers the contents, then extracts a bag

and heads back toward her, providing an even more impressive view.

Sara smirks at him a little as he drops the bag on the bed, then reaches out to snag it as he reclines back onto the bed next to her, opening it … to laugh out loud and pin him with an amused gaze.

"What'd you do, rob a drugstore?

"Maybe." Len's eyes are sparkling as she regards him, then looks back down at the plentitude of condoms in the bag. "I know they're not…well. Quite as unobtrusive as the modern version. But…" He shrugs. ''They'll do."

"Mmm." Sara eyes him, setting the bag aside. "Still not very…certain. And perhaps not…enough?"

Len regards her. "Well," he drawls, "any thoughts on that? Not precisely my area of expertise…"

"Actually, yes. The League…well, given that you can never be sure where you'll be sent or for how long or the dangers of the situation, they do a certain amount of…education on the matter." She shrugs, then stretches out next to him again. "Hmmm. Low-tech education. Let's just say I know how to keep track better than most."

"What does this not surprise me?" Len snorts, pauses, then reaches for her, molding their bodies together again, reminding her without words that they still have a few days before the deadline is up.

"So, we pay attention," he says, lowering his mouth to her collarbone again. "We take measures. And...well." His teeth scrape gently along her skin, and Sara lets out an involuntary moan, wrapping her arms around him, the start of another blaze kindling within.

"We are both...ceaselessly creative people," he breathes into her ear after a moment. "Surely we can find ways to...entertain ourselves when it's particularly…unsafe."

Sara laughs a bit breathlessly. "Mmm," she says, turning her head to kiss the hinge of his jaw. "Now, that sounds like a challenge."

"Maybe it is." Oooh, the low purr of that voice…

"Consider me intrigued." Sara runs her fingertips down his spine again, more slowly and letting her nails scrape just a little against the base of his spine, smirking at the growl that emerges from his lips. "And challenged."

"Right here when you want to…practice…"

* * *

Gotham doesn't look much brighter in the springtime, really, Sara thinks as they drive into the city a few weeks later. It's like a cloud of gloom tends to hang over the place, even as the sun shines brightly only a few miles away. And at night, well...she's heard the stories.

She's about to _be_ one of the stories, she thinks with satisfaction, thinking about the night-black outfit she's got tucked away in her bag. Kathy had eagerly accepted their offer to join her this weekend, patrolling the city during a time when, she said, certain other individuals were...out of town. Sara hadn't asked, just pleased to be able to help her out and give Kendra an outlet that she seems to desperately need.

Doro, much bemused, had sewn her the outfit, looking vaguely scandalized at how snugly Sara want it to fit. She also has a plain black domino mask, which will do, and weapons to tuck away all over.

Leonard has already declared his intention to try to find them all later. Sara is looking forward to it.

They're meeting Kathy at the same hotel where they'd stayed last time, planning to stay two nights in the city while Leonard goes to obtain new ID for Dorothea and her daughters. Kendra's waiting in the lobby when they walk in, but so is Ray, somewhat to Sara's surprise. (Leonard sighs in mock exasperation.)

"I thought you had to work!" she says, hugging him soundly after embracing Kendra. "It's so good to see you both!"

Ray chuckles, hugging her back. "Well, all work and no play isn't good, right?" He looks at Kendra, smiling. "We could both use some…reminders…of who we are."

Kendra gives him a sparkling smile, which Sara is rather relieved to see. She'd been worried Kendra's discontent would spread to the relationship. And while it's best if they split if it's not working out—she will _not_ fall prey to the sort of '50s thinking that says otherwise —having backup in this time and place is a necessary thing. Best if everyone's happy with it.

"I suppose this means you want to tag along again, Raymond." Len's tone is dry as dust as he stands with arms folded, watching. "Punishment for my sins?"

Kendra snorts, grinning, then crosses over to hug him, too, getting a startled _oof_ as Sara and Ray watch in amusement.

"It's even good to see you, you crook," she says quietly. "Although Sara tells me you're more a hero these days."

"Bite your tongue." But his expression is more a smile than a smirk and Kendra nods in satisfaction, stepping back and regarding him.

"You'll stay out of trouble this time?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll try. I can't vouch for Boy Scout."

Ray looks indignant. "Hey! It wasn't me that…"

But Leonard's ignoring him, watching Sara as she approaches him. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him despite the public setting, ignoring the _hmmph_ of a passing matron, and murmuring a promise in his ear for later.

"Have fun," he tells her solemnly. "Kick ass."

"Will do." Sara adjusts his tie, belatedly realizing how ridiculously domestic they look when Kendra laughs again behind them. "Good luck. Don't lose Ray."

"I make no promises." But he winks at her, then nods to Kendra, before turning away and sauntering toward the hotel's front doors, Ray hurrying to catch up.

"I wanted to visit Wayne Enterprises," she hears him say. "But the big cheese himself is at some sort of thing in Metropolis…"

Sara turns to Kendra, ignoring her friend's smirk. Kathy had alerted the front desk to give them the key that would allow them to take the elevator up to the penthouse and they've already obtained it, so it's simply a matter to getting a private moment that will allow them to talk.

"You have an outfit?" she asks once they're alone in the elevator. "A mask?"

"I do. Ray actually had one specially made for me, as a gift. I don't know how he explained it to the seamstress." Kendra giggles. "Probably as something kinky."

Sara snorts at the idea of "Ray" and "kinky" in the same statement. "I don't want to know. I really don't want to know."

Kendra grins at her another moment before her expression crosses into something more concerned. "I just hope I can…"

She pauses. Sara waits a moment, frowning, then makes the logical leap.

"Hawk out?" She gives the other woman a look of surprise. "You think maybe you can't?"

"I…I don't know. I haven't had any call to use my powers." Kendra bites her lip. "I don't know if he told you, but before you guys left, Snart suggested writing down all I could remember from my previous lives, a bit each night. I think that's helped me retain all my memories—at least, I hope so. So maybe that will maintain my powers, even if they're dormant."

"Hmmm." Sara nods as the elevator stops. "Well. The only way to know is to try."

Kendra's chin goes up as the doors start to open. "True. OK. Let's go kick some ass."

"That's my girl."

* * *

Rather to Leonard's relief, Peabody is still in the same Otisburg apartment they'd found him in before. Presumably because he now knows Leonard's money is good, and that they're not setting him up for some sort of sting, the forger accepts the commission with alacrity, even promising the goods within 24 hours.

The men are back out on the Gotham streets by the time the sunset starts painting the horizon. Len, who's not feeling that particularly unnerving hairs-on-the-back-of-the-neck sensation for some reason, considers options, but regretfully decides against any extralegal activities.

It'd be just his luck to have the ladies take notice. And Sara would _never_ let him live it down.

Instead, he heads back toward Old Gotham, Raymond trailing behind, making stops at a bookstore and a department store, where he picks up some office supplies. Then, checking his watch, he heads for a decent-looking—and not too smoky-bar he'd noted near the hotel.

Raymond, who's been notably quiet aside from the odd rejoinder and a fit of enthusiasm over the bookstore, promptly perks up, ordering a white Russian (Leonard rolls his eyes) and taking a seat at a two-person table while he sips and peers around with an excess of curiosity that wouldn't serve him well in most of the establishments Leonard has frequented. But this is a fairly tourist-friendly area, for Gotham, a semi-genteel sort of business, and no one takes any note of him, at least to Leonard's educated eye.

So he shrugs, gets himself a nice scotch, and joins the other man in drinking and contemplation of the bar.

Raymond, though, has apparently decided he's been quiet long enough. He's almost dancing in his seat with eagerness, and Leonard sighs internally, eyeing the inventor as he takes a drink.

Punishment for his sins.

"This is cool, right?" Raymond says eagerly. "Hanging out. Having some drinks. Just…bros."

Leonard sips his scotch, leaning back in his chair. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Um? No?"

" _Bros_? Really, Raymond?"

Raymond gives him the puppy eyes. Leonard sighs. He's definitely softened, he thinks. He just can't manage to take the other man down a peg. There are only four of them, here, from 2016, and they need to stick together.

But he can't just fold, either.

So he tilts his head back, narrowing his eyes, and changes the subject. "So, how goes the professorial gig?"

Raymond blinks. Then he shakes his head, readjusting. "Um. Good? It's a little weird, at times, trying to make sure I don't say something that isn't common knowledge yet, but…it's good. I feel like maybe I'm making a difference."

Leonard can understand that, though he's not going to admit it. He's actually enjoying talking to someone else he doesn't have to self-edit around.

But then Raymond has to go and bring _feelings_ into it.

"So. Are you going to…ah. You and Sara, you're really, _really_ together, right? Now?"

Leonard fixes him with a level stare, sipping his drink.

"Um," Raymond continues, looking a trifle sheepish, but soldiering on. "Good. Not what I'd expected, but good! Are you…err…are you going to…"

Leonard closes his eyes in resignation.

"Are you going to stay together? I mean, when the ship gets back?"

Len opens his eyes and stares at the other man. Not the question he'd been expecting. Raymond looks a little more sheepish but stares back.

"I mean, you still think they're coming back, right?" he says, a plea for agreement in the words. "There's just some sort of delay. Maybe they're fixing the ship, or Gideon, and something in the timeline won't let them go back to the same moment…"

Leonard takes another drink, stalling. He's definitely going to need another one, he decides, then sighs, considering his words.

"Always thought that the whole 'go back to a few minutes after you left' thing Hunter told us was a bit too good to be true," he says finally. "So…I don't know. It's been nearly months. Seems like a pretty good window to me, but since Gideon's gotta be looking at eons rather than months…it's probably like finding a needle in a truly enormous haystack."

Raymond's nodding, eager again, encouraged by the agreement.

"Right! That's pretty close to what I keep telling Kendra," he says, then abruptly switches gears. "So, are you going to marry her? Sara? I mean, have you thought about it?"

And there's the question he'd expected earlier. "Ain't really the marrying kind, Raymond."

Of course he's thought about it. It's the '50s, and although the narrow scope of their world right now has limited the amount of fallout they've gotten from being an unmarried couple cohabitating, if they continue to be stuck here, they might want to expand that scope a bit, do some travelling. And while he could simply acquire a pair of rings, hand her one and call it a day, that just doesn't seem…right.

He's not sure if that's the time drift talking, or his feelings for Sara. He's not choosing to examine it at the moment.

Raymond looks a bit disappointed. "But…"

"Leave it, Raymond." This time his own words come out more as a plea, making him wince. But the other man studies him a moment, then nods, and changes the subject.

"So, Sara said you're doing some electrical work. I had an idea…"

* * *

They'd both acquired hotel rooms with balconies—thankfully, not adjoining rooms. Leonard and Sara's is just a little more out of the main view, a little more sheltered, so that's where they go to wait for the women.

They actually pass a notebook back and forth across the hotel room desk for a while, sketching out design plans for a new type of alarm system, although Leonard will admit he's taking some amusement in also telling Raymond all the ways an intelligent crook could circumvent it. But as the time ticks on, Raymond takes some sort of weighty physics text out of his loot from the bookstore and sits down to read. Leonard shrugs and repairs to the balcony, staring out at Gotham, which is definitely livelier well after midnight than Orange City is.

He leans on the railing and turns his earlier words over in his head. Does he think the ship will return, at this point? He'd meant what he said, about months and eons and needles and haystacks. But when should they let go of that hope, accept that this is their life now?

It's a good life, really. As long as they can hold onto the core of who they are—and the niche they've found is letting them do that—it can continue to be good. Parts of it fantastic, even…

A flicker of movement up and to the right catches his eye, and Leonard steps back toward the balcony door, pushing it open and moving into the doorway as Raymond looks up. A moment later, Kendra, wingspan blocking out the city lights, lands neatly on the surface, releasing Sara, who's grinning at him, bo in her hand, gorgeous in skin-tight black, domino mask contrasting with her shining blue eyes.

She's absolutely beautiful, the most magnificent thing he's ever seen, and despite the audience, he opens his mouth to tell her so…

"It worked!" And then Raymond is pushing past him, throwing his arms around Kendra as Sara steps away, laughing. Kendra strips off her own brown domino mask and tosses it away, then reaches up to grab her lover's face in her hands, pulling him down to kiss him soundly.

Worked? Leonard notes the wings again. Ah. Sara shakes her head, still grinning, then steps closer to him, pulling off her own mask.

"All it took was for her to hear one cry for help," she says with satisfaction. "The instincts are still there." She collapses the bo, then gives it a spin before making it vanish, somehow, up a sleeve. "Still here, too."

"Never doubted it." Leonard notes that Kendra and Raymond are talking quietly, still intent on each other, and reaches out to put a hand on Sara's waist, drawing her closer. "You've still been training."

"Hmm. Training a baby would-be vigilante isn't the same as running rooftops and taking on supervillains in a place like Gotham." But she's still smiling, studying him, and Leonard can't help smiling back.

"Where's your friend?" he asks in a low tone.

"Headed back to her own home base. She's a bit shy of men—too much criticism for her own decisions in the past." Sara reaches out to run her fingers down his jaw. "I told her you two are different, but she's skeptical."

"Well." He studies her a moment, pleased by the light in her eyes. "Enjoy yourself?"

"Immensely." She leans closer, and Leonard's other hand also goes to her waist. "Still gotta lot of adrenaline. Can you think of anything to do with that?"

Hell, yeah.

"Oh, probably," he drawls. "But we need to get rid of our…interlopers…"

They both turn toward the others, only to see Raymond and Kendra quite _involved_ , right out there on the balcony in full view of the Gotham night. Sara lets out a snort of laughter, and Leonard rolls his eyes even as he smirks.

"I don't need to see this," he comments drily. "Get a room!"

Then he laughs aloud as Ray—in a very non-'50s move-actually flips him off in response.

* * *

The acquisition of ID for newly dubbed Dorothy, Amy and Anne May marks the time for that little family to move on, heading for the now-Starling City with a new life ahead of them.

Leonard had offered them a ride, but Dorothea had declined, preferring to take the bus. They don't have much, just a suitcase for each, but her friends in Starling are going to meet her at the stop, and there's a place to stay and a job waiting. Dorothea gives Leonard a look that can't decide whether to be amazed or mortified when he hands her an envelope full of cash, as well as paperwork for trusts for the girls, to be used for college or seed money for a home or a business.

"Stephen has them all set up. You have his number," he tells her, then leans just a bit closer.

"I was too young to do it for my mom," Sara hears him say quietly. "Take it. Consider it…sort of the righting of a wrong. All right?"

Doro shakes her head…but then hugs him soundly, tears in her eyes.

Sara's gotten to her knees to better bid farewell to the twins, who are reacting to the whole thing in ways that reflect their own natures. She hugs them both, surprised to feel moisture in her own eyes, wondering what they'll go on to do. She's done her best to convince them of their own strength.

"Change the world," she tells the girls. "You can do it."

Ama…Amy…hugs her back with a giggle, small, strong arms squeezing before she withdraws and skips back to her mother. She considers this a big adventure. Anne, who's a bit more reticent and skeptical about the whole thing, pauses, studying Sara.

"You really think I can?" she asks quietly.

"I know it."

As Sara rises, brushing off her dress, Doro approaches her. Sara hasn't been as close to her as she's gotten close to Ginny and Rebecca—the other woman had insisted on maintaining some distance, and they have less in common. But this time, she studies Sara a long moment before nodding and pulling the younger woman into a brief hug—and imparting a bit of advice.

"Marry that man," she tells Sara sternly. "He's a good one. And you don't want him to get away!"

Sara laughs, looking over her shoulder at Leonard, who's down on one knee himself to speak to the girls.

"I know he is," she murmurs. "I know it."

* * *

There isn't extra space at 19 Gabriel Drive for long.

Not a week has passed before Rebecca, whose usual sixth sense for lost souls is still in force, brings home an exhausted-looking girl in her teens, clutching a baby boy not more than 3 months old and so relieved to have a safe place to rest her head for a time that she bursts into tears. (The baby does too.)

Then Stephen brings by a much older woman whom his cohorts at the law firm had been unable to help, one left suddenly homeless when her late husband had left their home to his mistress instead of her. She's shell-shocked at her change in status, at the loss of everything she'd thought she had in the space of a month. And while she seems just a little scandalized by this place in which she finds herself staying for a time, she's also practical—and falls so in love with the baby that Sara smiles to see a new little found family forming before her eyes.

Ginny shows no inclination toward going anywhere, even after the end of the Wayne saga, and Sara's pretty sure she's sharing a room with Rebecca now—although both of them assert that it's due to space reasons, nothing more.

Sara's also pretty sure that's not going to last.

Ginny, true to her word, keeps training with Sara, getting better and stronger, focusing on the idea of starting some sort of self-defense classes for women one of these days. Sara actually suspects the other woman would rather like to go full-on vigilante but encourages her to focus more on the idea of the classes and building her own skills first.

Leonard starts teaching Rebecca bits and pieces of electrical work and his security systems—and how to pick locks. Rebecca shows Sara how to plant a garden in the backyard of their house.

Ginny gets her damned chickens. It is nice to have fresh eggs all the time.

Sara and Leonard have a semi-serious squabble about housekeeping and division of labor. Making up, however, is incredibly satisfying.

And before they know it, months pass.

* * *

Things change, again, about two and a half months after their visit to Gotham. It starts, for them at least, with a phone call—as so many things do.

Leonard's in the office fiddling with something, but his hands are full, so he calls to Sara to pick it up. Sweaty from practicing forms in the studio, she darts in and grins at him before lifting the receiver.

"Kendra? Hello! I wasn't expecting..."

But Sara's voice trails off quickly, a look of shock taking over her features. Len, frowning, watches as she appears to struggle for words, her expression stunned in a way he's pretty sure he's never seen before.

"But you're OK?" she asks finally. "And Ray...?" A pause as she apparently listens. "Oh, that idiot. Listen, I'll be there as soon as I can, OK?" She glances at Leonard, who nods, guessing her question. " _We_ 'll be there. Three, four hours depending on traffic. Leaving now. Hang in there!"

Sara hangs up and stares at the phone for a long moment. Leonard watches as she finally shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and turns to him, expression resolute.

"We need to get back to Nickel City," she tells him. "Something's...happened."


	11. Hold Me Close

The drive to Nickel seems both incredibly long and all too short at the same time. Sara takes the steps up to the apartment two at a time, Leonard following at a slower pace. The inner door is unlocked, and Sara makes a beeline to the living room, pausing in the entryway.

Kendra's sitting on the sofa, wearing a bemused expression that still isn't sure what it wants to be. She glances up at Sara and smiles a little, a tired smile and a grateful one, and Sara crosses the rest of the room quickly, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Kendra leans into her with a sigh, closing her eyes. Sara, rubbing her shoulder, looks up to see Len hesitate in the entryway. After a moment, he clears his throat, nodding to Kendra as she opens her eyes again.

"I've got Raymond," he says quietly. "You…OK?"

"Better now." Kendra gives him a tiny smile. "Thanks."

Leonard may have changed, but he's still not all that comfortable with feelings unless they have to do with Sara. He just gives her another nod, glances at Sara, and leaves posthaste.

Kendra makes a noise that might be a laugh, might not, and shakes her head. "I'm impressed. And a little surprised he came with you."

Sara had never seriously considered that he wouldn't, a confidence that now makes her pause, a touch defensive. "It's only the four of us…"

But her friend holds up a hand. "Down, girl. I know. I didn't mean to insult your crook." Sara's pleased to see the spark in her eyes. "But we both know he's not fond of…"

"Mushy stuff?"

"I was going to say, Ray." Both women laugh a little, but Sara shakes her head.

"I think they've grown on each other a little," she says. "And right now, he also feels the need to, err, give him a dose of typical Snart pragmatism." She pauses. "Uh, how long have you known…"

"Maybe an hour before I called. Suspected longer, but…this isn't the best era for such things." Kendra sighs. "In so many ways."

Leonard's not the only pragmatic one, but Sara feels the need here to try to reassure the other woman. "But at least _we_ know a lot. Right? Stuff that's common knowledge in 2016. Um…I think?" This isn't precisely her field of expertise. "Or…" She nibbles her lip. "…I mean…do you want this…"

" _Yes_." Even Kendra seems a little surprised by her own vehemence. "Sara, I thought when Carter died…well. Yes, I do, now that it's settled in a little. I just…really, _really_ wish the Waverider would come back now."

"I hear you."

They sit in silence a few more moments before Sara speaks again.

"So," she asks, squeezing her friend's hand. "Did they give you a due date?"

* * *

Raymond isn't precisely hard to find. As Leonard had expected, the scientist is sitting at the bar at the first very establishment of that kind he pokes his head into. Len pauses, gives the air an experimental sniff, deems the atmosphere not too loaded with cigarette smoke and unlikely to cause an immediate headache. Then he saunters in, not bothering to conceal his movements, walking right up behind the oblivious Raymond and pausing.

Well, he deserves it. Leonard considers him a moment, then _thwaps_ the dark-haired man upside the head.

"Hey!" Raymond yelps, nearly dropping his drink. The bartender gives Len an odd look.

Leonard shrugs, pulling out a stool to sit down and motioning toward a bottle of scotch.

The bartender shrugs back, reaches for the bottle and pours. Apparently minor assault of other patrons is allowed as long as you're buying the booze.

Raymond still has a hand clapped to his ear, giving Leonard a wounded look. "Really?" he says in a hurt tone.

Leonard takes a drink, considering him. "Thought better of you, Raymond," he drawls after a moment. "And yet…you're here."

The bartender gives him a flat look at the perceived insult to the establishment. Len waves his hand in an "explain later" gesture, watching the scientist.

Raymond looks down at his drink, suddenly sheepish. Leonard waits a moment, then takes a closer look. "Wait…are you drinking…"

"What? It's ginger ale. That's all I've had."

Len can't help himself. "Raymond, if you ever need a real drink in your life, it's probably now." He nods to the bartender, who pours another scotch with alacrity and slides it over.

"I don't want to be _that_ guy…"

"If one drink makes you _that_ _guy_ , you've got bigger problems." Len stares at the man until he takes a gulp of scotch, then nods.

"OK," he says, "talk."

"Kendra called you? Is Sara…?"

"With her."

"Oh. Good." Raymond lets out a relieved breath. "Someone should be. I mean..."

Leonard can't hold his own somewhat surprising indignation in any longer, though. "And why the hell aren't _you_?" He downs his drink, pushes the glass across the bar for another. "I'd think she'd need you now. Sitting at a bar after you've found out you're going to be a father..."

It's something Lewis would have done. Frankly, he's pretty sure it's something Lewis _had_ done. And his own visceral reaction to that thought actually makes him a bit nauseated.

But Raymond gives him a look of horrified indignation right back.

"She kicked _me_ out!" he says in a tone of high dudgeon. "You think I didn't want to be there? I'd _never_ abandon her."

Leonard opens his mouth, then closes it. Apparently, his own biases have led him to misread the situation a tad.

"Ah," he says wisely, trying to decide how to continue. But Raymond's off and running, alleviating the need for him to find a tactful way to backpedal.

"I was..." He considers his drink, then sighs and takes another big gulp. "...I _am_...really happy. I mean, we were trying to avoid it because...well. But I always wanted to be a dad. And I love her. I can't wait to see what our kid will be like."

He gives Leonard a woebegone look. "But Kendra got really angry when I wanted to celebrate."

Len eyes him, wondering if the other man really is that tone deaf. He's not precisely a marvel of empathy himself, but even he could have predicted how that would go.

"Raymond, the woman just found out that she's in for nine months of...unpleasantness," he drawls, finally. "And then childbirth. And then raising the kid in..." He glances around, but the bartender has vanished at the moment and there are only a few other patrons in a back corner. "...this godforsaken time. You think it's not an adjustment? Especially since you didn't plan it." He eyes the scientist. "You didn't, did you?"

"No!" The dudgeon is back. "I...uh. Not at all. Definitely an accident." He looks a little sheepish again. "More like six more months. Probably, ah, happened in Gotham. Kendra was really, um, enthusiastic...and we really shouldn't have, but..."

"I don't need to know this."

"You don't need to know this." Raymond looks at his drink again, then downs it suddenly, putting the empty glass back down and hopping to his feet. "You're right. That was really insensitive. But now I'm going to go back, and I'm going to show her that I get it. And that I'm going to be the most awesome dad ever. I will change _so_ many diapers..."

"Sit down, Jim Anderson." Leonard sighs when Raymond gives him a quizzical look. "Never mind. But give it a few more minutes. Let her vent to Sara."

"She can't vent while I'm there?"

"She's probably venting _about_ you." Len gestures to the reappearing bartender, who obligingly refills Raymond's glass. "And Sara's likely to agree with her."

"So?"

"So Sara has knives."

Raymond stares at him a moment, then picks up his glass. "Ah."

Leonard salutes him with his own glass. "Ah, indeed."

* * *

Despite the touch of hyperbole (Sara definitely has knives, but Leonard's relatively sure she won't use them on Raymond—relatively), the two men head back to the apartment fairly soon. Dragging Raymond back to his pregnant "wife" toasted might have been amusing, but unproductive, and Sara would have been rather tempted to use her knives on him in that case.

The two women are sitting at the dining room table, and from the look of things, they've polished off a few pieces of cherry pie. Sara looks up at them, at Raymond's tentative expression and Leonard's rather world-weary eye roll, and smiles.

He can't help smiling back at that smile. At this point, he's incapable of anything else. Kendra looks between the two of them and makes an amused noise, even as she gets to her feet and starts toward Raymond.

The scientist has already started toward her. "I'm sorry…"

"So am I." Kendra sighs as she nestles into his arms, resting her head on his chest. "I'm glad you're…"

"No, no, no, I should have been more understanding." Raymond wraps his arms around her. "Really. I'm sorry. And I'm here for whatever you need me for."

Kendra, incongruously, giggles. "I think you being there for whatever I needed you for is what led to this."

Leonard snorts despite himself and Sara shakes her head with a grin, rising from the table herself and walking over to him.

"Good job," she murmurs as she gets closer.

"Didn't do much." He hesitates, then puts an arm around her, drawing her near. It's not like Raymond and Kendra don't know they're together. Right?

Sara lifts an eyebrow, but obligingly leans into him. "You got him back here."

"About that…" But Raymond and Kendra are murmuring quietly to each other, and Leonard decides to leave it be. "How are you?"

"OK." She hesitates. "I'd like to hang around tonight. OK? A little moral support. And to visit a lot more often for a while, but we can talk about that."

He'd been a little worried she'd consider just going back to Nickel to stay. "Right. Ah…can we try to get a hotel?"

"What, you don't want to sleep on the couch?"

"Not particularly."

* * *

In the end, they do wind up staying at the apartment that night, mainly because they stay so late it doesn't make much sense to try to go find something.

Sara's pleased; Leonard actually exerts himself to be sociable, or as sociable as he gets. Distracting Kendra seems to be the best thing to do at the moment, and when Sara starts a game of Monopoly, he obligingly joins in, robbing Ray blind whenever the man isn't paying attention to his cash and producing more "Get Out of Jail Free" cards than the game should rightly have from up his sleeves. Eventually, Ray is suspiciously paying more attention to the smirking crook than the game, Kendra can't stop giggling, and Sara emerges victorious when Leonard lands on her Park Place.

Sara means to sleep in the same small room she'd had before but first stretches out on the couch with Leonard after Ray and Kendra finally go to bed, wanting a little bit of time together. They're quiet for a long time, her head resting on his chest, one of his hands tangled in her hair, before Sara clears her throat.

"Thanks," she says, quietly.

"Mhrmm?" From the groggy sound of his voice, Sara's suddenly pretty sure Leonard had dozed off. "What?"

"Thanks. For finding Ray. For sticking around. For helping give Kendra something else to think about. I'm glad you were here." That approaches actual discussion of feelings, so she stops then, unwilling to go further...yet.

He's silent for a long moment. Then, in a voice so low she can barely hear it: "Same."

They fall asleep there not long later. And although Sara wakes to the sound of Ray's "Awww!" in the morning and with a cramp in her neck from the awkward way they'd been lying, she can't bring herself to regret it.

* * *

Sara decides to cook breakfast in the morning, just to give Ray and Kendra a break. She's not a bad plain cook, really, but Leonard takes over the pancakes with alacrity when he sees what she's doing, and they spend a companionable 20 minutes or so side by side at the kitchen counter, Sara cutting up fruit and Len making batter and then flipping pancakes. Ray hovers at first, but then goes into the living room to grade some papers, and they all decide to let Kendra sleep in.

Unfortunately, Kendra—who emerges from the master bedroom right about the time the meal is ready—takes one sniff of what Sara had considered fairly luscious odors and bolts for the bathroom. Ray hurries after her, and Leonard and Sara share slightly resigned looks…and repair back into the kitchen to eat. Well, there's no point in the food going to waste.

After a while, Kendra comes back out to meet them, looking sheepish, Ray hovering a bit, but having the brains not to do so too much. Sara makes her some plain toast; Ray reheats some pancakes, and they have their Team Legends '58 breakfast after all.

Afterward, they talk a bit, or Sara, Kendra, and Ray do, about practicalities and the possibility of "the Pratts" moving on to a house. Leonard, restless, moves around the living room while they do, providing the occasional pithy comment and staring at the still-patiently blinking beacon. And eventually, he joins them, turning one of the dining room chairs backward and planting himself in it. Kendra returns his steady gaze, smiling back at him just a little.

"Hey, crook," she says (and Sara wonders if maybe she's lost possession of her usual…well, she supposes she can call it a pet name…for him). "Thanks."

He lifts an eyebrow but doesn't respond further beyond an inclination of his head. But Kendra's smile grows as she regards him, and Sara decides suddenly that her friend has his number, that she too has well and truly figured out that there's far more to Leonard Snart than "crook" and "survivor" and even "sarcastic smartass."

"You know, if we decide to do such things, you and Sara will have to be the baby's godparents," Kendra tells him, quite seriously. She holds her expression for a few beats, studying his rather disconcerted expression, then laughs, leaning back against Ray, who's also looking amused.

"We're serious, though," he tells Leonard, then looks at Sara. "I mean, we still have to talk about...well, a lot of things, including that sort of upbringing."

"The priesthood of Horus isn't precisely acceptable in 1950s America," Kendra murmurs, getting a nod from Ray, who continues.

"...but there are, um, expectations in this era and we need to figure that out. We sort of like the idea of godparents, at any rate." He looks momentarily tentative. "Um. If you're all right with that? I mean, if anything happened to us, you might be on the hook..."

"Of course, Ray," Sara tells him immediately, reaching out to gently slug him in the arm. (Earning an "oof" despite the lightness of the blow.) "Kendra. There's no way I'd do anything else." She glances at Len, who's still silent, wondering what he's thinking.

She'd pretty much expected a snarky comment, a way to deflect the relative intensity of the moment, but instead the shutters are up in his eyes, the walls not so icy as before, but definitely there. At this point, though, Sara knows that sort of blankness means he's struggling with a bit more emotion than he's comfortable with, which is a sort of answer in and of itself.

The three of them seem to simultaneously decide to let the topic go, to give the fourth member of their little Legends-in-exile a moment to collect himself—which, Sara thinks, is a measure of how much even Ray and Kendra have gained some understanding of Leonard Snart and how he operates. But before Sara can change the subject, Leonard shakes his head-not in denial but in what seems to be disbelief—and speaks.

"I'd be honored," he says, just a trifle roughly, then gets up and vanishes into the kitchen, from which Sara hears running water a moment later.

By the time he's finished washing the dishes, the moment's passed, and he's right back to needling Ray about, well, nearly anything he can think of. They all let him keep his illusion of indifference, though, if that's what he needs.

They know better.

* * *

"D'you want kids?"

Sara, who'd been thinking her own thoughts in silence during their drive back to Orange City, glances over at Leonard in surprise. They'd left later than intended, and at some point during the drive thus far, the sun had set, casting them both into shadow.

Leonard's profile is illuminated by the periodic lights along the highway and the occasional headlights of the other cars on the road. He's still looking straight forward, but there's a muscle ticking in his jaw, betraying tension, and Sara's not quite sure why. Concern she'll say yes? Or...otherwise?

"I...really haven't thought about it in a long time," she says slowly, watching his profile. "I used to. But then the League happened, and the Pit, and...well, like I said before, I'm not even sure I can. If I could...maybe? In the right circumstances." She hesitates. "What about you?"

His silence stretches out. Sara continues to study him, wondering, realizing that the answer is more complicated than expected for him, as well.

Finally, he shrugs. "Used to be a hard no," he mutters, still watching the road. "Between the life I led and...past history."

Used to? "And now?"

Something in his expression suggests to Sara that he hadn't even realized the wording he'd used. After a long moment, he just shrugs again.

And that's the end of the conversation. For the moment, anyway.

* * *

With all the turmoil in Ray and Kendra's lives, it seems almost unfair that Sara and Leonard's lives have settled into something far steadier. Sara continues to work with Ginny every morning, mingling techniques in a hybrid sort of martial arts, and starts to research other instructors in the area who might be willing to take on a female student. She has some luck, more than she'd expected, really, and compiles what she finds into a list ostensibly for Ginny—even as she starts considering trying to lure some of them into a potential studio of her own.

Leonard and Sara go shopping for a camera with plans to start making some actual marketing materials for the business, and settle on a shiny new Kodak 35mm, with actual newfangled color film. Sara, who has fond memories of a college photography class, starts tinkering with it and finds herself with something of a new hobby, especially as the weather truly settles into mid-summer and they start exploring a little more of the area during their free time. The drives back and forth between Nickel and Orange are rather nice in the good weather.

But while she's enjoying that, Kendra's not taking the summer warmth nearly as well. The morning sickness has continued, along with fatigue, and while that's apparently completely normal, it doesn't mean she's enjoying it.

"I know this might pass...at least, I really hope it does," she tells Sara while they're visiting one day, about a month after that initial post-baby-news dash to Nickel. "It's making it really hard to bake." She takes a sip of the mint tea that seems to help. "I mean, I'm not really planning on growing the business beyond where it is, but it's doing well, and I don't really want to lose that. Then I really would just be another housewife with baby on her hip."

She sounds so melancholy that Sara reaches out to grab her hand and squeeze it, feeling a bit helpless.

"I'd stay a bit and help out, but I'm pretty hopeless at baking," she says. "Now, Len…but he's got the business too…"

Kendra squeezes back. "It's not the baby thing," she says with a sigh. "I mean, people have kids and stay themselves all the time. At least, they do when we came from." She shakes her head. "That's the problem. I don't want to…to fade away here."

"We'll do our best to make sure that doesn't happen," Sara tells her, as Leonard and Ray—who'd been out and about looking at real estate—come back into the apartment arguing about what seems to be the ethics of intimidating someone into accepting an offer. "Even if we leave the kid with the guys and go terrorize Gotham's criminals with Kathy every weekend. Every other weekend?"

Kendra laughs, Ray comes over pleading with them to side with him, Leonard follows him, smirking, and the issue is forgotten…for now.

* * *

Not long after that, the newer three residents of 19 Gabriel move out and on to new lives that Len and Sara had partly helped to set up. Isabelle, the widow, is setting up shop in a Gotham suburb as a seamstress—with the patronage of Kathy Kane, who's pleased to have someone…discreet…to go to with costuming challenges. Maryann, the younger girl, is posing as her also-widowed daughter, serving as her assistant and attending secretarial school on the side—which Len had paid for—while Isabelle watches the baby.

They're both still feeling very pleased with that when there's a new problem.

David, a quiet and reticent child by nature, has been relatively content to ghost around the house, reading everything Len can get him and following Len like a puppy whenever the man is around. Sara occasionally tries to convince him that the boy needs more social time with kids his own age, but Leonard—who'd spent a good portion of his youth wishing that everyone would just leave him alone—disagrees.

Miriam's been visiting perhaps every month to see her son and calls from Empire City regularly every Sunday night, but when a Sunday comes and goes without a sound from the telephone, to David's great disappointment, Rebecca tries calling the next morning herself.

She gets off the phone partly in tears, partly furious, having been reamed out by the wealthy man whose family Miriam had been working for as a housekeeper. He'd fired her, apparently, nearly a week ago, accusing her of stealing a piece of jewelry and throwing her out with barely a moment to collect her things.

He uses a few slurs that Rebecca is unwilling to repeat. But both Leonard and Sara can guess.

Leonard, hearing this story—which they keep from David, for now—freezes, his expression going dark as a thundercloud. (Sara's pretty sure that it's only all the months of goodwill built up with Rebecca that keep her from being downright terrified of that expression.)

After a moment, he turns and heads for the door, and the car. Sara follows, hopping into the passenger seat and meeting his stony expression with a matter-of-fact one.

"I'm going with you," she says quietly. "Don't argue."

He doesn't.

Empire City is usually just under three hours from Orange, but it's all highway driving, and Leonard drives faster when he's angry. They have the address where Miriam had been live-in housekeeper from the letters she's exchanged with David, and Sara looks up the area on the map they still keep in the car as Leonard drives. They find the home, a stately Greek Revival mansion in an obviously ritzy part of the city, one not far from the state capitol building, and park not so far away.

Leonard closes his eyes, his fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel, white knuckled, and Sara can hear him trying to calm his own breathing. It's a good sign, really, given that she's pretty sure he'd like to do nothing more than stalk up there to that house and drive his fist into the face of the man who owns it. (At least, since he doesn't have his cold gun.)

Finally, he opens his eyes again and looks at her, and Sara studies what she sees in them. After a moment, she nods.

"Do I go with you, or not?" she asks quietly. "How do you want to play this?'

Leonard considers. Definitely not reacting with his emotions alone anymore, Sara thinks with relief.

"No, stay here," he says finally. "I think I can better convince him to spill any information on my own." He gives her a brief, utterly humorless smile. "I won't even threaten him. No matter how much I want to."

She doesn't ask if he's sure, just nods, and after a moment, he gets out of the car. Sara watches him regard the house a few minutes longer, then adjust his dark suit jacket and start toward it.

She believes him, but…Sara still rolls down her window, and listens as he stands at the door. Whether for screams or gunshots, she's not sure, but she'll be there in a heartbeat if he needs her.

She hears nothing. No yelling. No weaponry. It's torture to sit there and wait, but Sara has experience at waiting. Even if she hates it.

Finally, Leonard saunters back down to the car. His face has a carefully controlled expression, the kind that suggests that he would, indeed, like to have punched the man in the face. He gets in the car, nods to Sara, and starts it, driving a block or two, out of sight, before stopping again and leaning his head back against the seat, eyes closed.

"What," he says, after a moment, "an asshole."

Sara hums in agreement, a trifle annoyed she hadn't just gone along with him. For face-punching purposes, of course. "Any luck?"

He shrugs a little, opening his eyes and staring out the window, then turning his head to look at her.

"I posed as an investigator," he says. "And he was all too willing to rant about Mrs. Jacobi. Apparently, something really did go missing, but there doesn't seem to be any evidence at all that it was her. For one thing, he'd have called the cops if there had been." He shakes his head. "But he decided to blame her. Because of course it _had_ to be the Jewish woman."

Sara's fists clench despite herself. There could still be face punching today, she thinks. She really wants there to be face punching.

But Leonard's continued. "That's never a vibe I got from her, at all. I'm positive she didn't steal it." He shrugs. "One thief knows another. She's not a thief. Not even if she was desperate."

"And she just…vanished?"

"Yeah." Leonard starts the car again. "We need to check some places. Just in case."

And they do. They check hospitals. They check police stations…and morgues. They check soup kitchens and aid organizations. They check the local synagogue.

No luck. Not even a clue.

They stay overnight at a small motel, something that would be almost nostalgic if not for how tense and upset Leonard is. Skinny, dark-haired David, Sara's long since come to recognize, reminds her lover rather forcibly of himself as a kid. And this…

The memories have to be excruciating.

Sara curls up behind him in the bed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, feeling the tension there. It's not the time to try anything amorous, but she thinks that he's finally in a place to take touch as comfort, at least from her, and starts gently working on the stiff muscles on his back with careful hands.

He accepts the caresses, maybe even relaxes under them, and after a few minutes, there in the dark, she hears him whisper.

"She wouldn't have just left him there." he murmurs. "Would she?"

The uncertain words, the tone, are so unlike him that Sara's heart hurts. She knows he knows the honest answer—it'd happened to him, in a way, after all—but that's not what she wants to tell him now.

"I don't know," she says finally. "I only met her once or twice, and she didn't really talk to me. Desperate people do desperate things. And if she thought David was in a better place…"

That gets a ragged sigh and a murmur she can't quite hear. But she can guess.

Finally, they both fall asleep. It's not a very restful night, but it keeps them going.

Options of the moment exhausted, they drive home the next day, leaving contact information with a sympathetic police captain and a rabbi. Leonard's shoulders are slumped as he unlocks the door to No. 19, and he's barely set foot inside before he freezes in his tracks. Sara steps to his side, and then realizes why.

David's standing in the doorway to the next room, looking at them expectantly. Rebecca hurries up behind him to put her hands on his shoulders, her own expression not nearly so hopeful. Life has made her a realist.

David's still a bit more optimistic.

"Did you find my mom?" he asks hopefully, trying to peer around them. "Is she OK? Is…"

But Miriam isn't there, and Sara sees the moment the boy realizes it. His eyes dart to Leonard's, reading the response there before the man can even speak, and his face falls. He turns, shaking off Rebecca as he runs toward the stairs, clattering up to his tiny room even as they all hear a sob escape his throat.

Sara's not sure what hurts her more in that moment—that heartbroken noise, or the look on Leonard's face as he watches the boy go.

* * *

Leonard spends a good part of the day in his office, making some phone calls, calling in some favors he's apparently earned through his security work. Soon, there's a bit of a network keeping an eye out for Miriam Jacobi throughout the region. Rebecca does the same, talking to some of the people she's helped throughout the past few years.

David hides in his room, and none of them blame him. Sara had been a little worried the boy would try to leave, to go search for his mom, but if that's a danger, he's apparently not quite ready yet.

She takes him lunch that day, and he does open the door to her quiet knock, taking the tray with a nearly inaudible "thank you." Beyond him, she can see the pile of books on his bed—apparently how he tends to hide. A bit like Leonard, indeed.

"David," she says quietly, before he can shut the door—and then suddenly finds herself uncertain what to say as his eyes dart to her face. He doesn't need to hear that it'll be OK, not when they're not sure if he'll ever see his mother again. And he's too realistic, now, to want to hear reassurances that she can't back up.

"We're here," she settles on, quietly, meeting his eyes. And for the moment, she sees a flicker of appreciation there. It doesn't fix things. But it helps.

Later, in the evening, they coax him downstairs for dinner, Leonard getting his permission to look at photographs and paper that Miriam had let in a box in the room, just in case there are clues to where she might have gone. Sara joins him after a few minutes, staring at the static images of a family trying to pretend to be happy—the frozen expression in Miriam's eyes, the steely gaze of her husband, the growing stress in David's gaze as he gets older-then gets back up, crossing to the window and staring outside.

She's had a thought rattling around all day. It's unexpected, really, and there probably are all manner of things wrong with it. But it's settled in, and before she knows it, she's blurting it out, needing to hear Leonard's reaction.

"Len," she says, looking out the window and into the backyard. "If we don't find…do you want to adopt him? David? Do you want _us_ to adopt him?"

For a long moment, there's no response. She thinks, perhaps, that she's stunned him. Then he clears his throat, a startled noise, and speaks, his voice low and a little uncertain, latching on a side detail of the idea that nonetheless holds a great deal of importance. "We'd have to…"

Yes, in this day and age, they'd have to be married. They both know it.

As proposals go, it's not a good one. In fact, Sara thinks sheepishly, turning back around, it's pretty weak. Well, it really wasn't the main gist of her offer.

But, yeah. It's something they have to address.

Len's watching her with, yeah, a slightly stunned expression on his face. She's not sure what's surprised him the most, really, the thought of adopting the kid or the implied marriage proposal. They study each other, and after an interminable amount of time, he starts to speak...

But before either one of them can say anything more, there's the sound of an opening door downstairs, then a ruckus, raised voices and then a cry.

At the sound, Leonard's running for the stairs, Sara on his heels, sliding a knife into her hand. It hadn't sounded like violence, but she'll be ready.

They hit the bottom, turn the corner, and…

Miriam Jacobi is sitting in the parlor, her far-too-tall-for-such-things son folded into her lap. David's crying what seem to be happy tears at having his mother back. Sara's seen the other woman as stoic and severe the few times they've met, but now Miriam is weeping too, her arms wrapped around her boy, the two of them holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," she says, looking up at them. "I'm so sorry I didn't call. I…I just wanted to find something else before I told you, but I've had no luck." She shakes her head violently. "I didn't steal anything, I didn't, I would _never_ …"

Rebecca, who's approached with Ginny from the kitchen, steps forward to rest a hand on her shoulder. "I know," she says gently. "Shhh. We'll work it out."

But Miriam's shoulders hunch, as if in pain, and she shudders. "I saved up a little money, but I used up a bit of it for somewhere to stay and then bus money back here," she says brokenly. "I don't have enough for a new start, not yet, and now I don't have a recommendation…"

"We _will_ work it out," Rebecca tells her again, as Ginny backs her up. "We will. We'll find you something…"

"I can…I do a lot of household stuff. I can cook, I can clean, I can care for children, I just need someone to give me a chance…"

Sara glances at Leonard, who's watching mother and son with an expression that's…well, the best she thinks she can describe it is a mixture of relieved and almost protective. He notices her watching after a moment, and gives her a half-smile, a light in his eyes, and it occurs to her that, just maybe, this reunion is healing something that's been raw and painful for a long, long time.

They're still going to have to talk about the offer she'd made him. But not right now.

Miriam is still worried, still having trouble accepting anyone's assurances that it will be OK. The other women are tossing ideas back and forth, and David's looking like he's both relieved beyond measure and wondering if he should still be worried. Sara's pondering how to reassure him…

And then she has an idea.

She steps forward, squeezing Leonard's hand as she does so, drawing the others' attention. Miriam, who's only met Sara a few times and has always seemed rather reserved around her, glances up, looking uncertain, even as David smiles at her.

"Mrs. Jacobi," Sara says thoughtfully, "you said you can cook. How do you feel about baking?"

* * *

Miriam is quite willing to relocate to Nickel City, and with Sara and Leonard's assurances, even tentatively agrees to let David come with her. The boy doesn't really want to leave Orange City, but neither does he want to let his mom go alone, especially now, and after a talk with Leonard, he decides to go too.

The first time they meet, Raymond (who's been thoroughly filled in on the situation, along with Kendra) charms Miriam, making it as clear as he possibly can that he will allow no harm to come to her there. Even Leonard will admit that the other man can be quite charming when he wants to be, and his Boy-Scout nature seems to reassure her in a way Leonard's native snarkiness cannot.

And Kendra, about 5 months pregnant now and showing a bit (and grumpy about 1950s maternity clothing), gets her immediate empathy.

Miriam is actually quite eager to work with her, to help fill all the orders local restaurants and coffee shops have standing, but she and David still need somewhere to stay. Mother and son _could_ stay in the apartment—there's room—but Kendra and Raymond still have to keep their real origin quiet, and they _are_ posing as a married couple.

Instead, they find a small apartment nearby—tiny, but clean, furnished and secure—and Leonard pays off the rent for six months, figuring that the pair might want to move on by then. Miriam, however stoic, is thrilled at the notion of her own home again, however small, and even though David barely has a closet-size space of his own again, he's a little giddy, too,

And just like that, it's a deal.

Leonard's not sure how to feel as he finishes carrying their bags in. Good, he guesses. He's helped someone else…again. His rep is never going to recover.

Ah, hell, he'll admit it. He doesn't care.

Miriam has already thanked him profusely, but he knows she's still skittish around him, probably always will be. He gets it. It's OK. The results are always what matter. And the results will help a kid too much like him get away from being…too much like him.

David's arranging books in the small shelf in his room, when Len drops by, fussing over their order, but hops up immediately as Len sticks his head in the door.

"Mr. Wynters!" he says eagerly. "I'm putting my books away. I have my own bookshelf!"

Leonard had made sure he had that bookshelf, which hadn't been in that original version of the apartment. "Excellent," he murmurs, moving into the room a little. "Mind if I sit down?"

The boy, brow wrinkled in confusion, nods, and Leonard takes a seat, passing the book in his hands back and forth. David sits down on the end of the bed after a moment, watching him. But there's not that wounded-animal shyness anymore, and that's a thing that makes even a hardened crook smile.

"Got something for your collection," he murmurs after a minute, passing the book over.

It's a copy of H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine." And if Leonard hopes that someday, if his four benefactors just up and vanish, an older David will put the pieces together, well…

David studies it, leafing through a little bit, then grins. The kid likes science fiction, much as a younger (and, OK, the current) Leonard Snart did, and Len's been picking up copies of things he'd once read here and there, including Asimov's "I, Robot" and "Foundation," Bradley's "The Planet Savers" and Andre Norton's earlier books.

"Thank you, Mr. Wynters!" he says, hopping up to carefully place the book on the shelf. "I'll read it right after I finish 'The Hobbit.'"

"Wait and see if you want to go right into Tolkien's other stuff." He considers the kid, pleased at the change. If he's done one good thing with his misspent life, it's this.

There's a lot he could say here. Reminding the boy, again, that he's not his father. That what other people think of him does not define him. That it was never, ever his fault.

"We'll visit," he says instead. "And your mom's gonna let you go back to school, I hear. You missed the start of the school year, but you should be able to catch up."

David looks a mix of pleased and uncertain at that news. He's a bright one, but school learning isn't really his favorite. Len can empathize with that too. "Yes," he says, a little reluctantly. "I'm…I'm worried…"

He'd once been very skittish about admitting to worries. His father hadn't considered such things "masculine."

(One of the few things Len has as a secret from Sara, here in this time, is that he'd tracked down Jonathan Jacobi not long after meeting Miriam and David. And while he hadn't done anything permanent…well, not _really_ …he's pretty such the man won't be coming after them. Not after Leonard had given him something to really worry about…)

" 'Bout what?" he asks David, keeping his tone casual.

The boy shrugs. "The other kids, what if they pick on me for not having…a dad?" He pauses. "What if they think he didn't want me?"

Len considers that a moment, because the kid deserves it, and a realistic response. "You won't be the first to get that kinda stuff," he says finally. "And you won't be the last. There are people like that, but then you'll know they ain't worth your time." He smiles at the boy, a little. "Find your people. Stick with them."

It's not quite the response David wanted, he thinks, but it's the best one he has to give. After a minute, the boy nods.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "I'll try."

If they were two different people, Leonard thinks, it would be a good time to give the kid a hug. But neither one of them are really comfortable with that. Still too many damages. So, after a moment, he just reaches out, slowly, and awkwardly pats the boy on the shoulder, pleased when he doesn't flinch.

"I know," he says, just as quietly.

* * *

The days can be long. Increasingly, the weeks are short.

As fall settles in, so do they, even more. Sara drags home pumpkins from a farmers market and makes Len carve jack-o'-lanterns with her, an exercise that quickly devolves into a mess and an impromptu wrestling session…and a _very_ nice shower, together, afterward. Rebecca shows Sara how to plant perennials and they put a row of black-eyed Susans in along the side of the house.

Len has to visit Metropolis for a very lucrative security job, and Sara goes with him. After the business part, they turn the trip into a bit of an idyll, really, playing tourist and trying new restaurants—and spending a few long, lazy mornings in bed. Neither of them have brought up Sara's offer again, but there's at least one moment, standing at the harbor and looking out at the sunset, that Sara wonders if Len might be planning an offer of his own…

But they continue as they are. And what they are is good.

David and Miriam are thriving in Nickel City, Miriam beginning to blossom as she deals with a business she's truly good at and an employer who appreciates her. Mrs. Levy, the landlord and book shop owner, befriends them both, especially David, and the collection on the boy's small bookshelf starts growing again.

Kendra's moved past the worst of the morning sickness, finally. Ray is driving her crazy, but it's drifted into a contented sort of crazy, for both of them. Sara starts to consider a baby shower, if the '50s version can be adapted to something tolerable. Len and Sara are both visiting when Kendra lets Ray feel the baby kick for the first time, and Leonard doesn't even mock him when he starts to tear up.

The holidays are on the horizon. Sara starts thinking about getting Christmas ornaments and banters with Len about real trees vs. artificial. (She's for the former, he's for the latter.)

But a far smaller, but still meaningful, milestone hits them first. Sara and Ginny are sparring in the studio when Ginny manages to throw Sara for the first time. Sara had, to be perfectly honest, been distracted by other thoughts (Leonard had stuck his head into the room and smirked at her, and she'd been rather recalled to certain activities the night before)-but the feat stands, and Ginny is so thrilled that Sara, after she picks herself up off the mats, promptly declares that this needs a celebration.

She takes both Ginny and Rebecca into downtown for lunch and a shopping excursion, getting meals, drinks and desserts at a nice restaurant and then wandering about the stores, looking at dresses far fancier than they really need. At one ritzy shop, Rebecca, uncharacteristically, puts her chin in the air and tries on a lovely red dress after Ginny tells her shyly how pretty she'd look in it. That spurs Ginny to try on another one in an emerald shade of green. Sara, watching them model the dresses and giggle, is convinced to try a pricy strapless blue silk number and falls in love with it…then buys all three in a spurt of generosity.

Leonard's out of town that day, but he's home the next evening, and Sara, feeling impish, is wearing the blue dress when he arrives. She has the radio on, too, and is fiddling with the dial as he comes in, dropping his bag and closing the door behind him.

Sara, grinning, can feel his eyes on her as she finds a station, then turns to regard him. Leonard, looking very dapper in a dark blue suit, is regarding her in return, a smile hovering around his mouth, eyes dark.

A song comes on the radio, then, and Sara turns to turn it up a little. She's only just done that when she feels steady hands at her waist, and warm breath at her ear.

"Honey," he purrs, "I'm home."

Sara snorts in laughter, then turns in his arms. "Sorry, dear," she drawls, "I'm not vacuuming the house in pearls and heels."

Len's eyes darken more, if that's possible. "Wouldn't want you to," he murmurs, pulling her forward a little more, taking a step back as he puts one arm around her waist and lifts the other to claim her corresponding hand, settling their linked fingers over his heart. "Impractical."

Given that she's been wandering around waiting for him in a fancy silk gown, that's a little amusing. Sara grins at him, settling her free hand at his shoulder.

"Wanna dance, Leonard?" she says quietly, an echo.

He doesn't answer in words.

"Chances are 'cause I wear a silly grin  
"The moment you come into view  
"Chances are you think that I'm in love with you"

Aside from Johnny Mathis' smooth voice, it's quiet in the house on Gabriel Drive. The faint sound of traffic is barely noticeable, and even the wind has died down.

"Just because my composure sort of slips  
"The moment that your lips meet mine  
"Chances are you think my heart's your Valentine"

It goes against the grain for Sara to let anyone else lead, but she trusts Leonard. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes to his as they move slowly across the floor, from the kitchen into the living room and back.

"In the magic of moonlight when I sigh, hold me close, dear  
"Chances are you believe the stars that fill the skies are in my eyes"

Leonard's watching her with an intense expression as they sway, and Sara's pretty sure her own expression is no less passionate. She takes a deep breath and moves even closer as they watch each other, trying to convey a lot of the things they don't say but she's pretty sure they both know.

"Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me  
"And if you think you could  
"Well, chances are your chances are awfully good"

She only gets a moment of warning, a flicker of Leonard's eyes just before he swings her up into his arms in a bridal carry, startling her into a laugh. Smirking, he carries her toward the bedroom, shoving the door closed with one foot behind them.

Johnny Mathis continues to sing.

"Guess you feel you'll always be the one and only one for me  
"And if you think you could  
"Well, chances are your chances are awfully good

"The chances are your chances are awfully good"

* * *

Someone once said that there's no point in worrying, for real troubles are the sort that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday. It's earlier in the day, but it is an idle Tuesday, when the phone rings in the office. Leonard's in there and grabs it nearly immediately. Sara, who's out in the living room looking through some artsier photos she's taken and musing about a gallery she'd seen in the city, can hear the murmur of his voice, but not much more. She has no reason whatsoever to believe that something's up.

At least, not until Len walks out into the living room, expression blank, drawing her attention with his silence moreso than any exclamation. She glances up, then blinks and starts to ask, but he beats her to it.

"They're back."

Sara stares at him. Impossible not to understand what he means, but impossible, also, to believe.

"When?" she manages finally, sitting the photos down, voice sounding loud even to herself.

"Maybe...an hour ago?" Leonard's voice sounds oddly hollow. As if he can't figure out how to react. "Hunter tracked Raymond and Kendra down because of the beacon, knocked on their door. Wants us all back. ASAP."

"I…are they all OK?"

"Raymond said so. Didn't say much more."

Sara takes a deep breath. It's a dream. She's going to wake up and... "I...we..."

She doesn't wake up. She waits a moment, then gets to her feet. Leonard watches her, still with that odd expression, or lack thereof.

Should she pack? Is there anything she wants to take? They need to...

"I need a little bit," she says finally, her own voice sounding odd too, even to her own ears. "Not too long. Just..."

Len waits a moment after her voice trails off, then nods. "Yeah. Me too," he says. "And we need to..."

"Yeah."

* * *

Less than two hours later, they walk together to 19 Gabriel Drive in silence. Sara knows that she's looking around as if in a daze, but it's still registering that she's never going to see any of this again. At least, not in the same way.

They've just locked up and left the house in which they'd become lovers, sparred, cooked dinner together, read, argued, played cards, grumbled over housework. They'll never get a Christmas tree together. She'll never see the black-eyed Susans come in. They'll never expand the studio like they'd discussed.

And now, here they are, there's the green house next door; there's where Wayne landed on his ass the first time he met Sara; there are Ginny's damned chickens and the rooster Leonard threatens, regularly, to cook. Sara stops on the side porch, staring at the door, remembering...

Leonard doesn't pause, though. He unlocks the door one last time, then steps inside.

Ginny and Rebecca are both in the dining room, eating what seems to be a companionable lunch. They both glance up at the visitors, and Ginny hooks a foot around another chair, pulling it out and inviting them to sit down and join them even as Rebecca stands to say the same.

But: "We need to leave," Leonard tells them, his voice unadorned by drawl or humor, perhaps just a touch harsh in the way that means he's trying not to let emotion in.

Ginny blinks at him. "What? Right now? Why..."

Rebecca, however, has twigged to the fact that he doesn't mean just today. She draws in a long breath, starts to speak, but stops as Leonard interrupts her, dropping the folders in his hands onto the table in front of her, then two sets of keys on top of them.

"This is yours," he says abruptly. "The business, the stocks, the house. It's all tied up legally; I made sure Stephen knew we might have to leave abruptly one day. He'll take care of it all."

He shrugs as Rebecca stares at the pile in front of her. "Sell the business or take it on. Either way, it's yours now." He pauses. "You'll be OK."

Ginny's turned to Sara, then Len, looking back and forth between them. "Are you in trouble?" she asks worriedly.

Sara thinks about Rip's inevitable reaction to all they've done here and snorts. "Well…" But the other woman's face holds a mixture of distress and determination, the latter something Sara herself has done a lot to instill, and levity doesn't seem like it has a place here.

"No. We just...have to return home," she says gently. "It's a really long story. And we want to...but we're just really going to miss some things." She leans forward and pulls the other woman, her protégé, her friend, her substitute sister, into a hug. "Like you two."

Ginny hugs her back, fiercely, like Ginny does almost everything, then leans back to study Sara's face again. "But...will you come back to visit?"

"I...don't know." But there's a "no" underlying the words, and both women hear it. Ginny suddenly starts blinking like she's trying not to cry, and Sara turns away before she can start doing the same, looking at Rebecca, who's watching them with

Ginny is fierce. But Rebecca is her own sort of strength, and she nods, once, as she looks at them, accepting this change like she's accepted so many others.

"Thank you," she says simply. "I don't know what we would have done without you. Mr. Wynters..." She looks at Leonard and swallows hard. "You were a godsend that night. And since."

Leonard hesitates only a moment, then steps forward and, telegraphing his movements, reaches out to hug her. Rebecca smiles a little as she squeezes him back, closing her eyes.

Sara's blinking quickly again as she watches these two damaged children turned determined and damaged adults, and she turns back to Ginny, who's watching them too.

"Take care of her," she says in a low tone. "Rebecca. She'll try to fix the world and forget to take care of herself."

Ginny snorts in understanding, but nods. "I'll do that. No worries." Her grin, sudden and a touch evil, appears. "And you take care of _him_."

Sara regards her, then lets the corner of her mouth twitch up. They're not just talking about having the other person's back. "I will."

The farewells could have gone on all day, but cutting things off quicker, cleaner, seems to be the best route. They're back outside within minutes, heading to the car, and Rebecca and Ginny are standing on the porch watching them. They're holding hands, Sara notices, and that somehow that makes her start to tear up again.

Leonard starts the car, leans out the window and waves, and Sara does the same.

And they drive away.

* * *

In the Nickel City apartment, Raymond's standing in the doorway of the room that was going to be the nursery, staring at the walls he'd painted pale blue, the crib that he had—in true Boy Scout fashion—already put together in the corner. One of Sara's framed photographs—a red-tailed hawk silhouetted against the sky—is still on the wall. Not typical nursery décor, but they'd all felt it appropriate.

Leonard might enjoy harassing the other man, but he's not completely an asshole. He pauses, loathe to interrupt, and waits for Raymond to make his peace with it.

Finally, the other man sighs, glancing back at Leonard and shrugging.

"Well," he says, turning away, reaching up to retrieve the photo as he does so, "at least Kendra doesn't have to give birth in this time. Right? That's good."

There's not much to say to that, really, so Leonard doesn't even try. He watches Raymond carry the picture out to the living room and tuck it into a bag, then pick up the beacon that, now dark, is still sitting on the coffee table. The scientist gives it an almost affectionate pat.

"Rip said this—the piece I picked up in Gotham—made it possible for them to find us sooner than they would have otherwise," he tells Leonard, satisfaction in his voice. "And, no, he didn't say what happened, just that we'd talk when we were all back on the Waverider." Raymond shrugs. "He seemed OK. You know Rip."

"I do," Len acknowledges, looking around the apartment. "Anything I can do?"

"Nah. We're not really taking a lot." He looks around too. "Where's Sara?"

"Downstairs. Talking to Mrs. Levy about the arrangements for Miriam and David to move over here, so Miriam can continue to use the kitchen." Leonard pauses. "Kendra's giving her the baking business, right?"

"Yeah. We already told her. Kendra's still over there now." Raymond zips the bag closed, then hefts it. "The rest of the stuff's in the car. I'm going to go get her, then head…back."

"We'll be there soon."

* * *

Miriam already has a bit of whiplash when Leonard knocks on the door not long later. She gives him a wide-eyed look, as if wondering if the business and new apartment that have just been bestowed upon her will be taken away again, but he's already shaking his head, holding his hands up as if to reassure her.

"Kendra and Raymond…Mr. and Mrs. Pratt…already told you, I know," he says gently. "David's in school, right?"

Miriam takes a deep breath, then nods, giving him a somewhat uncertain smile.

"He is," she says. "I'm sorry…"

"No, that's where he should be. But would you give him this for me please?" He extends an envelope to her, an envelope holding a letter, the boy's name on it. "It's not sealed, you can read it. Please tell him I'm sorry I didn't get to tell him goodbye in person."

Miriam takes it, after a moment, nodding again.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For everything."

"Mrs. Jacobi, believe me, it was my pleasure."

* * *

The Waverider, according to Hunter via Raymond and Kendra, is parked on the outskirts of the city, much like it'd been once upon a time in Central City 2016. Leonard drives the black 'Vette one last time, careful to find a relatively safe place for it. He's giving it to Stephen, has already dropped a letter containing the location and all the documentation into the mail to the lawyer.

He sees Sara watching him and shrugs. She gets it.

They have one bag each, so small an amount to take away from nearly a year, a life they'd started to build together. Leonard has some of his books. (Hell, yeah, he's going to keep that first edition of LOTR, even if it didn't now have sentimental value). The framed photos of their respective home cities from the house. The journals he'd kept. Nothing more.

Sara, he knows, has her camera and the photographs she's taken. A few pieces of clothing. (He hopes she brought the dress.) She shoulders her own bag, gazing at the empty lot that allegedly holds the Waverider, then, glancing at him, starts to walk forward.

He falls into step besides her.

Once they've set foot in the lot itself, there's a shimmer in the air, and the ship appears. Gideon, it appears, has been watching for them. Leonard stops in his tracks, much like he'd done back...forward?...in Central City that day. After months of 1950s technology levels, it's a momentary kick in the stomach, to see the damned thing, even more than it was in 2016.

Sara's stopped besides him. She studies the ship, then glances at him. They're both acting oddly reluctant, after months of wishing and hoping for this. He wonders why she is.

But then she speaks.

"I don't want things to change," she says suddenly, looking at him. "I mean, I know they'll have to. But I don't want you to step back out of my life or, hell, my bed." A pause. "Or my heart."

He stares at her, wondering if she's beaten him to the confession he's been thinking about making. But he's still trying to put the words together when she speaks again.

"I love you, Leonard Snart, and I don't want that part of this little adventure to end," Sara says quietly, glancing away, then back at him. "I hope it doesn't, now that we're back to the Waverider and hunting down Savage and…"

"I love you too." He pretty much blurts the words out and winces as her eyes widen in surprise. But he's committed now. "Have for quite a while now. Wasn't really sure how to say it."

Sara's smile is almost shy, which is so uncharacteristic of her. But she looks up at him as he gazes down at her, and somehow everything's OK. Everything's more than OK.

"Well, I think you just did fine," she murmurs, then holds out her hand.

"C'mon, crook. Let's go save time."

He takes it. "Lead on, assassin. Lead on."

And together, they head back on board the Waverider.

All of time ahead of them.

* * *

Author's note: Only an epilogue left!


	12. Epilogue

And here we are. This is really bittersweet. "Chances Are" is the longest piece of writing, fictional or nonfictional, I've ever produced. I tried my hand at OCs for the first time in ages. And I had a ball.

Thanks, as always, to LarielRomeniel for the beta. And to all of those who've been encouraging me since I started writing fic again a little more than two years ago.

* * *

It's not the first time they've been waiting in Hunter's office for a dressing down as the man paces in front of them. It's not the first time Leonard's sat there, legs stretched out before him, pretending to be disinterested. It's not the first time Sara's curled up in the chair next to him, fiddling with a knife.

But it's the first time Hunter's looked quite so…so troubled, somewhat to Leonard's unease. There's more going on here than they know, that's obvious. And not knowing…it bothers him.

Sara, sensing that unease too, glances at him, then reaches out to wrap her hand around his where it rests on the arm of the chair. And although being back on the Waverider has made some of his walls start to come back up—at least the ones pertaining to keeping his cool in front of others—he accepts the contact and the backup displayed therein, squeezing her hand and maintaining the contact even as Hunter notices.

And the captain does notice, focusing on their joined hands and running a hand through his hair in one of his habitual gestures of consternation before shaking his head and sighing. Leonard doesn't think most of his agitation is due to their relationship, but the man doesn't seem all that pleased by it, either.

Oh well. Like that's going to change anything.

Finally, Hunter stops, turning to face them and leaning on his desk. He looks at Sara—who lifts an eyebrow at him—then at Leonard, who smirks. And then he sighs again, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, as if he has a headache. He probably does.

"I must admit, when I realized how much time had passed," he says, "or rather, how much time was particularly unstable, between the day we…left…and the day we were able to return, I was worried. Worried about how Savage might have tracked you down. Worried that the Time Masters might have done so. But I thought, Miss Lance—" He looks at her, then switches his gaze to Leonard. "—and Mr. Snart are there. They're survivors. They'll go to ground. They'll stay safe and keep the others safe."

"We did." Sara's looking rather mutinous at the suggestion otherwise. "Safe and sane, or at least as sane as you left us…"

"…and you have well and truly caused so much change, so much potential change, to the timeline that I cannot believe the Time Masters didn't find you first, find you and eliminate you with _extreme_ prejudice." The former Time Master has actually raised his voice and they both bristle at him, Sara's hands tensing on Len's and on the arms of the chair. "Even Gideon cannot pinpoint quite yet all the ways your actions have changed things at this point. You might have even changed your own lives, or the lives of the others. If…"

But Leonard's had enough. It's one thing to let Rip lambast him, but he'll be damned if he'll let the man light into Sara.

"We _survived_ ," he drawls, forcing back the snarl he wants to let out, trying to keep his tone as cool and insouciant as he can. It annoys Hunter more than anger would. "No thanks to you, _Time_ _Master_. Hell, if I hadn't asked Gideon, we wouldn't have even known about time drift."

Hunter's eyes narrow, but he also rather obviously tries to make himself calm down, running a hand through his hair again. "It's not something you should have avoided!" he grits out, finally. "In many ways, it's a means of protection, for you _and_ for the timeline. A way time has of…of smoothing out the rough edges of something that's not where it's supposed to be…"

"Maybe we didn't want to lose our rough edges." Sara sounds pissed. "Maybe they make us who we _are_."

Hunter's glare gentles as it transfers to her. "Sara…"

"No, Rip." She shakes her head, taking a deep breath, tightening her fingers on Len's again. "I wasn't meant to survive in a time and place like that. If I had either started to feel time drift taking over—especially if I hadn't even known what it _was_ —or if I hadn't found a way to keep the…the core of who I am intact, I would have gone back to the League." She glances at Leonard. "I almost did anyway."

He'd suspected she was thinking something of the sort. Len keeps his gaze on hers, nonjudgmental and calm, and after a moment, she smiles at him.

"And we would have come for you." Rip's trying to sound reasonable and measured, but Sara just shakes her head at him.

"And how many people would I have killed in the meantime?" she says quietly. "What if I'd had the time drift set in there? I…"

But Hunter's thrown up his hands, exasperation apparently taking over. "So, instead, we have Dr. Palmer teaching physics principles no one in this time should even suspect yet. You, Miss Lance, leading a mini revolution in feminism in Orange City." Then he points at Leonard. "And you, Mr. Snart, the one I thought would be the most practical of all, playing 1958 Robin Hood and introducing advanced tech ideas to any number of individuals." He lets out a noise that mingles a sigh and a groan, collapsing into his desk chair. "Miss Saunders may have changed the fewest things…"

"And she's the one who came closest to losing herself due to sheer boredom…"

"But now the best…the only real…weapon we have against Savage is more than seven months pregnant!" His voice breaks into a bewildered sort of squawk, and the former Time Master just stares off into space for a moment before reaching into his desk and extracting a bottle of something that looks potently alcoholic.

"Where are Kendra and Ray anyway?" Sara asks after a moment, almost gently.

Rip shakes his head, pouring a drink. "In the medbay, getting Miss Saunders a thorough checkup." He hesitates, then shrugs, taking a long drink. "She seems well. Just…well…"

Neither of them wants to finish that sentence and set Hunter off again. After a moment, Sara rubs her hands together, smirking, and takes a stab at something that will get them out of Rip's office.

"Yeah, well, I want one of Gideon's magic shots again," she says lightly, winking at Leonard. "So…"

Hunter snorts but keeps staring into his drink as if it holds all the secrets of time. "I can't figure out how the Time Masters didn't find you all," he murmurs. "You messed up so much…"

Leonard is getting just a bit tired of this. "Pretty sure we changed things for the better," he drawls, starting to get to his feet.

But Hunter is having none of that.

"Are you sure? Are you really sure, Mr. Snart?" he asks, also standing, a hard note in his voice. "Because changing even small things in time, it causes…ripples. And those ripples grow as they spread." He points at them. "You save one life, two lives, those people save or change other lives, have children, maybe those children also have an effect…"

Sara's eyes are narrowed again. "Are you saying we should have just...what, watched…"

Hunter sits down his drink with a sigh. "I've only gotten the chance to look at the very basic level of what you—the two of you-changed, but do you know how many lives Miss Hayes and Miss Schuyler went on to touch?" he asks quietly. "To save? Or I should say now, the Mses. Hayes-Schuyler."

Sara actually squeaks, putting a hand over her mouth, looking toward Len with sparkling eyes. "They got _married_? They're still alive…"

"They were one of the first couples to marry in 2011, when New York…this isn't what we're talking about." Rip struggles to regain control of the conversation, but Leonard's picked up on something else.

"You said 'save two lives,'" he says. "They…"

The words trail off. Hunter stares at him a moment, then nods, picking up his drink again.

"They were going to die," he says, his voice emotionless, staring into the amber depths again. "There, in 1958, at that house, the night you met them, Mr. Snart. Mr. Travers was going to get into the house, then lose his temper and hit his wife so hard she fell and hit her head on the table. Then he would have grabbed Miss Schuyler to try to stop her screaming." He takes a sip. "Shook her so hard, he broke her neck."

He shakes his head. "He would have run off, eventually been arrested for it. But that night, Ms. Smith would have come downstairs to find them, then taken her children and run off into the night so that she wouldn't be implicated in it. She wasn't prepared. It…wouldn't have gone well."

His voice drifts off as he stares at the viewscreen in his office, as if remembering what it's showed him. Sara can't help herself.

"But the girls?" she asks urgently. "They're OK? Now?"

Rip eyes her, taking another drink. "Oh, yes. And that's another thing. Do you have any idea how many lives someone in a medical profession can change? I don't know what you did, but instead of fading into obscurity as Ann Smith, young Anne May went on to not only save lives, but to teach others to do so. That's not a ripple, it's a bloody tidal wave." He sighs as Sara grins, turning to Leonard. "And her sister! _Her_ two daughters…a trauma surgeon in Star City and a defense attorney in National. And that's not even addressing how many lives an _author_ can affect, and that's what the young Jacobi became…"

Leonard can't help it. He barks out a laugh, a noise that's both relieved and satisfied, grinning as he thinks of the tears in Dorothea's eyes when he'd given her that nest egg. Sara actually has tears in her eyes now, smiling at him, and he nearly reaches for her right there in front of Hunter, to tell her…

"Yes, I know like it sounds that this is all well and good, but we don't know yet what the fallout could be!" Hunter snaps. "What if a life one of them saves goes on to, to drive a car that hits Mr. Jackson's mother before he can be born? Or what if…"

Leonard rounds on him, though, anger surging again. "Then maybe you shouldn't have left us behind for so damned long," he snaps back.

Hunter's eyes are cold and furious. "And whose fault is that, Mr. Snart?" he asks in a clipped tone.

It's a figurative bucket of cold water, in part because Leonard realizes that he still has no idea. Neither Raymond and Kendra had known back in Nickel City, and they'd barely gotten to greet Stein and Jax before Hunter had summoned them into his office.

"What do you mean?" he asks slowly as Sara steps to his side. "Fault? What happened?"

"No one told you why Gideon went offline? Or…" Hunter stares at them. "Oh, bloody hell. I should have known. You'd have been in the brig if they had."

"In the brig?" Sara asks, a note of anger in her own tone. "He…"

"No, as a prisoner, but…." Hunter takes a deep breath, shaking his head. "Bloody hell," he repeats. Then he reaches out for the booze on his desk and two more glasses, wordlessly pouring both and handing one to Sara, one to Leonard, who takes it in suddenly nerveless fingers.

He's not sure how he suspects some of what's coming. But he does. He knows.

Hunter nods at his expression, then turns toward the viewscreen.

"Gideon," he says, "show Mr. Snart and Miss Lance what happened on the ship, after…after it took off back in Harmony Falls."

* * *

Next, "19 Gabriel Drive," a one-shot, will show Sara and Leonard visiting friends in Orange City in 2016.

And the tentatively titled multichapter "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight" will pick up the story of post-"Chances Are" Sara and Leonard (and Kendra, Ray, Mick and the others) on the Waverider.


End file.
